Nocturne
by Buddhacide
Summary: The final story to complete the trilogy of Your Holiness and Darkness Falls. Seizing the unprecedented opportunity of the human Army's defeat at the hands of the Ghosts, the Dragon Nations launch an unmitigated invasion on the Isles. Come and see Hell.
1. Chapter 1: The Heavens and Earth Kiss I

**Chapter 1: Where the Heavens and Earth Kiss I**

_Eastern Sutafu. Four weeks after the Battle of Darene Plains_

It felt good, binding the men you hated in chains.

After her victory against the Army, the former Number Six and leader of the Ghosts, Miria, had moved to arrest the men at the Organization's headquarters. After so many years she had expected to bring the criminals to justice. Those who, at the order of the Army's leaders, had captured both men and women, performing horrific experiments on them in a bid to restore the balance of power between the humans and the Descendants.

Having recovered slightly from their horrendous losses at the hands of the Pacifying Generals of the Army, Cid and Galk had been all too willing to reunite with their Claymore comrades. Leading a hundred of the finest Rabona elite guard, they had launched a surprise attack on the completely undefended and unprepared headquarters of eastern Sutafu. A once ominous yet magnificent building near the mountains, after several days of siege, it was now nothing more than an odorous hole in the ground.

Just the way she liked it. Miria shook herself, chastising herself for what she understood as a guilty pleasure. _Why am I thinking like this_? And what of the Claymores who should have been defending this stronghold? Quite honestly, she did not know. What was certain was that after the defection of Clarice and Miata, along with the defeat of Alicia and Beth, was that the Organization was dealt a crippling blow. Not even Audrey or Rachel would be able to stand up to the new alliance between the former Number Six and Riful.

There was nothing to stop her momentum after their victory at Darene.

_Helen. Deneve. Tabitha. Yuma. Your memories have been avenged. You have not died in vain_.

Snapping back into the present moment, she approached the two Rabona commanders, nodding briefly. Cid pushed back Rimuto's head. The once-proud old man had been forced on his knees, bound in steel chains. "Sorry," muttered Galk, scratching his thick brown hair. "We got him but a couple of the others escaped. But at least this one's the real deal."

"Bastard," snapped Cid suddenly, his fist visibly itching to find Rimuto's crooked, sneaky, despicable nose. "So these are the old farts who caused so much trouble in the first place, eh?" He quietened somewhat as Miria passed him. "Aren't you angry?" he asked in embarrassed surprise.

Miria did not reply to Cid. She merely looked down at the helpless Rimuto, in his flowing robes and armour. "So it comes down to this at last," she declared quietly. "You look pathetic."

A vein popping in his tall, narrow head, Rimuto spat at Miria's feet. "You traitor. You killed His Eminence. You crippled the only force capable of stopping our enemies. And now Alicia and Beth are gone too! Your temerity is staggering."

Miria did not reply. She lowered her face. "I don't expect you to understand. You've trodden your path of evil for far too long to retrace your steps." Raising her head, she stared almost unthinkingly at her former home. It felt like an ephemeral dream. Her eyes fell upon the cells where she and Hilda had held each other for warmth and comfort in. They were exposed now, every one, because the very ground had been ripped asunder; the rock around it torn down. The training grounds, where she had first laid hands on a Claymore. Where she had been whipped and branded for failing to last more than an hour against an instructor in a duel. The arena had been blasted through, barely recognizable.

And finally, the hall where she had received orders from her supervisors. Where she had been given command of the Northern Campaign. Only the pillars remained, and some of them had been toppled, many broken into several pieces.

Her old life. All of it. Destroyed by her own hands.

"So this is the day I've waited for…" she murmured, brushing back her raised ponytail absently.

Silence reigned for several minutes. Rimuto hung his head as Cid and Galk moved to accompany him and the other bound men to the prisoner's cart. Galk turned to Miria. "Is there anything else you need?" he asked quietly.

Miria shook her head. "I've told you everything I know about the Dragons. I must return to my allies, for tomorrow I'm setting sail for the Isles of Man. All I ask is that you move out to defend the Continent's borders, should we fail you."

Cid's mouth fell open. "No way."

"What? You never told us that," exclaimed Galk. "And could it be that you – "

Miria nodded. "I will not let this Continent ever be discovered by our enemies," she said. "Life will continue as it has always done so – whether or not I return. That is my wish."

"That's suicide," said Cid at once, his voice rising. "Are you insane, you – "

She turned away. "I've done all that I needed to achieve here," she whispered. "I doubt I'll be returning to Sutafu ever again.

"Cid. Galk. I've never thanked you for the help I needed so desperately needed at Darene. Nor have I thanked you for the help you've given me to attack Sutafu. For that, I apologize."

"Miria, wait – "

"Can I leave you to deal with Baudelio and the other fugitive officials?"

Galk closed his eyes. His voice was one of helplessness and gloom. "Certainly."

"For that I thank you again. Goodbye, my friends." Avoiding Cid and Galk's faces, she turned away from the rubble of the Organization's headquarters. She strapped her sword to her back and began to run in the opposite direction. Her speed rapidly increased with each step, eventually becoming a blur as she hurtled along the mountains.

She had not been lying. She would never set foot here for the rest of her life.

*

Side by side in silence, the former Number Forty-Seven, Clare, and the former Number Five, Raphaela, made their way into the cave of an ancient being who was the only survivor of her kind, alongside her lover.

Once they had been enemies. Now they were 'friends', as their onetime nemesis proudly proclaimed.

Clare's booted toe tapped lightly on a pebble, dislodging it from its parent rock. Something stirred in the blackness. "Who's there?" growled a clumsy, brutish voice. "Oh, it's just you," blinked a dark, crouching titan in the darkness before them. "Why are you trying to hide your Yoki while seeing us? You don't trust us, do you? You better be careful, I could pound your head in – ha!" he laughed as Raphaela raised an eyebrow and drew her sword. "So you really do wanna fight? Bring it on, you little boneless scum – "

"Dauf! You're being crass," chided the small girl behind him sharply. She pointed her finger at him as he cringed at her reprimand. "From now on, we're friends with them. Good friends, I hope. With as few awkward silences between us as possible," she added, smoothing down her pink dress with a mock-ladylike dignity. "I hate awkward silences."

"Yes, dear," said Dauf at once, although he continued to glare at the newcomers. "It still feels kinda strange fighting with you guys," he grouched, hunching his massive shoulders.

A self-conscious dumbness almost instantly descended on the dank cave.

Clare suppressed the urge to snort derisively. She raised her head. "Riful," she acknowledged. She glanced at Cynthia and Galatea, who had arrived before them. Garbed in her familiar nun's outfit, Galatea stood beside Riful in silence as the smaller Awakened Being rocked back and forth on her child's chair. Cynthia could not help staring at Dauf, who, to Clare's mild surprise, ignored the young beauty. "We're here," continued Clare, returning to Riful. "You said you and Miria had completed preparations?"

"That's right. Now that everyone's here – " Riful glanced up at Dauf, who already looked bored. "Wait. Where is the little one? The little psycho? And brown-head, for that matter?"

"Still in Darene," said Galatea quietly. "I forbade them to come, but I have no guarantee they will obey."

"You're such a rotten sport. And the younger Black Twin?"

"Our human allies have taken her to Rabona, under the care of my former Brothers," replied Galatea. "I have adopted her into our orphanage."

"How kind of you. Well, they were kids too, I guess. The Black Ones, I mean. Okay then! Welcome, everyone," said the Abyssal One, clasping her hands. "Firstly, let me say how glad I am that you finally see things my way – "

"Get on with it," cut in Clare shortly. "We're here only because Miria agreed to join hands with you, if only for a short while. We are not here for your banter."

"The Dragons must be stopped," confirmed Raphaela. "But just how are we going to go about this? Speak quickly; time runs short."

Riful held up her hands. "Hold up, princesses. Don't crucify me for your own mistakes. If you joined up with me when I offered the first time, we'd have beaten Isley and brought the Continent under our control long ago. If you'd given me some of Miria's intelligence in return for the information I'd given Clare, I would've been able to help you fight the Army and you might not have lost your four friends. And sweet Dante wouldn't have been killed by you idiots," she added under her breath.

"Anyway, your question's a difficult one," she admitted, shrugging innocently. "Really, the information I have is all from Miria. Technicalities like how to sail to the Isles, or which borders the Dragons are most likely to attack. But the organization of the Dragon armies? Their commander? Their strategy?" She shook her head. "Sorry to disappoint."

"Is our plan to reunite with Miria first?" asked Cynthia.

"Yes," replied Riful, smiling. "As you know, she went to settle her affairs with the old men. She can tell us about that later." She raised her head to the stalactite-dotted ceiling. "But everything else that happened before now was mere child's play. Now all that remains is to deal the Dragons a wound that they'll never recover from." Her smile broadened. "We'll put a halt to their advance before they reach this Continent. After our little rendezvous with Miria, we'll journey to the Isles of Man. We'll stop the Dragons in their tracks before they gain their offensive momentum."

Galatea nodded in grudging approval. "Admirable strategy to protect the people of this Continent. As you'd expect from a former Number One."

"Actually, that was Miria's idea," giggled Riful. She rose from her chair and hopped onto Dauf's hand, who obediently raised her onto his shoulder. He began to shuffle out of the cave, into the warm, blinding sunlight. She waved her hand, bidding the Ghosts to follow her.

Galatea grimaced, taking Cynthia's hand. She began to walk behind Dauf. Clare and Raphaela nodded at each other and followed.

At long last, it was time to move out.

"It's time to defend hearth and home from invasion," said Riful, her chestnut eyes sparkling with an infernal eagerness. "Let's go."


	2. Chapter 2: The Heavens and Earth Kiss II

**Chapter 2: Where the Heavens and Earth Kiss II**

Suppose an intrepid and curious explorer was to trek North one day. If he persisted, he would pass the ruins of Pieta, a city devastated years ago by a horrific battle between ethereal, silver-eyed angels and demonic colossi. If this courageous ranger ventured further up to the mysterious northern border, which had been long abandoned, he would reach a ruined port, destroyed by time and snow. And if he gathered the strength to sail across the howling, blizzard-battered seas, he would reach the Isles of Man, the true home of humanity, a world away from the Continent, where the spires of the cities and fortresses stood for eternity, watching over the islands that were Man's domain.

Here, perhaps, he would decide to traverse the colossal archipelago in its entirety, to sail down towards the Eastern Pangaea, a supercontinent which humans had not colonized. And having moved east from the Isles, the last stage was a seemingly endless, rocky path towards that direction, towards the light of the rising sun. True, it was an excruciating journey. But if he could complete it, his reward would be beyond his wildest dreams.

Having followed this long and difficult road, he would have reached a magnificent destination.

He would finally have arrived at none other than the majestic, splendorous, ancient Capital of the Dragon Nations.

The Ziggurat of Mt. Sumeru.

Towering four hundred feet over the Tribal city-states that surrounded the base at the mountain on which the Ziggurat was built, Sumeru was the seat of the ruling royal family, the House of Anu. For generations this millennia-old structure had remained the centre of the Dragon Nations, its titanic towers surveying the ancient homeland of a diverse conglomeration of races that had united as two distinct nations emerged from the Old Wars. These beings all claimed descendance from draconic Ancestors of awesome power and unspeakable brutality, in opposition to their smaller counterparts, the human beings.

For generations, Mt. Sumeru had hurled army after army at the human borders, determined to end the chaotic war between the two countries of the world. It was here where the First War against the Isles was declared. It was here where the shamans of the Tribes had blessed the armies of the Descendants, as they surged northwards, to face their archenemies.

It was also here where news of Lord Carmelo's death reached the ears of the Dragon Monarchy…

*

Mt. Sumeru, Imperial Capital of the Dragon Nations. Royal Chambers

Within the sub-hall of Elders, the Crown Prince of the Dragons, Dumuzi, listened in disbelief as a serpentine, cobra-headed messenger reported the shocking revelation. "Impossible. The Grand General of the humans has been slain?" he whispered. Standing at thirteen feet, the heir apparent of the Emperor resembled a muscular demon with two dark, leathery, wings of a matching span. His sparse skin across his entire body was a charcoal black, his thick, powerful legs ending in hard, adamantine hooves. His eyes danced with red flame as he bared his jagged fangs in concentration. _Carmelo… defeated and destroyed_? He rubbed his noseless face, stroking the thin skin around the wide nostrils that were pressed flat along his countenance like a thousand year old corpse.

"I have fought against Carmelo many times," he murmured, still slightly stunned. "Neither of us have ever triumphed, yet we have always held each other in nothing less than admiring respect. Who could have been capable of killing him?" He spun around to face his subordinate. "Who else knows of your report, emissary?"

"Only our royal viziers, and the Enchanter General Pazuzu," hissed the messenger, who was even larger in bulk than the Crown Prince. "We know not of the details, for most of our forces were concentrated on the Forts in the North. It is only apparent that the mass movements of seven human armies in recent weeks suggested that the Grand General had a veritable civil war on his hands. The rebels were perhaps former soldiers of our enemies, who seem to have defeated the human Army they once served, seeing as Carmelo is now dead."

Dumuzi nodded. "I agree. Either way, you may leave now. Go in peace."

"My honour, Your Highness," replied the messenger, as he slinked away.

Dumuzi turned and walked out of the Hall, his hooves shaking the stone floor of the corridors that loomed above him. Making his way through the royal labyrinth, surrounded by hieroglyph-decked pillars a hundred feet tall, awe-inspiring even to the Dragons who built them, Dumuzi feverishly reflected on the consequences of his long-time rival's death.

_A leaderless human Army?_

_It would be folly to not to muster an attack now. We can push through. We might be able to penetrate past the North, to advance deep into the islands. Then we'll have the true advantage. _

_But now that scoundrel Pazuzu knows of this… yet another opportunity to cause chaos for the Imperial Court…_

"Elder brother!" called a younger, feminine voice. Dumuzi turned, his slitted eyes falling upon an alluring, four-winged succubus wearing transparent, gossamer silken robes. Her hair was dark brown and tied back in a ponytail. Her skin was of an olive tan, and her eyes a darkly seductive crimson. Only her wings – which resembled those of a grotesque vulture's – betrayed her Draconic origins.

Dumuzi's face broke into a grin as the much smaller Dragoness glided towards him and kissed him affectionately. Her graceful hands cupped his dark cheeks as her flushed, rich lips met her brother's lipless mouth. "What news from the frontlines, elder brother?" she asked, breathless with joy.

"My name is not 'elder brother'," said Dumuzi in a mock-stern tone, as he took her smaller hands in his. His clawed fingers moved patiently, teasingly, over her palms and knuckles. "You obey me on so many occasions, but you refuse to on this one request?"

"I like calling you my elder brother," laughed Inanna. "It makes me feel more unworthy and submissive before you. It puts me in the mood to kneel and take your – "

"You consort with the palace attendants, your guardians, the handmaidens whom you personally selected, yet you still desire me?" chuckled Dumuzi. "Can no one satisfy you?"

"Only _you_," she said defiantly, kicking his bony shin with her slender, bare foot.

"Flattered. But not now," suggested the Crown Prince, pulling her closer. "Listen carefully. I _do_ have news from the frontlines. I did not wish to tell anyone, but this is too important to hide from you. The Grand General of the humans, Lord Carmelo – " Dumuzi's smile disappeared, as quickly as it had come when he encountered Inanna. "He is slain."

His sister's seductive eyes widened. "That handsome warrior?"

"Wonderful news, at the same time, disturbing," continued Dumuzi darkly. "What is worse; that miscreant Pazuzu knows. He might be already on his way, to invade the Nation of the humans. I cannot stop him, not with the authority I have. And if he conquers the Isles, he will be a veritable dictator in the Imperial Court."

"Why is a beaked, plague-infected demon like Pazuzu the commander of the Dragon armies?" sighed Inanna, resting her head against Dumuzi's large, protective chest. "You should have the honour of leading our warriors against the humans. You are beloved and admired by all our people. Pazuzu is hated even by his most trusted men. That his influence is so great is just… unjust."

"He is an ingrate not worthy of his Dragon blood. I promise you that one day we'll take back the military power that is rightfully ours. Nor will I never let him come anywhere near you again," added Dumuzi, kissing her again.

"But even during these volatile times, Father continues to sleep," complained Inanna. "He will not rise, even when I call to him. Meanwhile, the entire Court falls into the palm of Pazuzu's hand. I worry for the Nations' future."

"We must not let him make the first move against the humans. If he conquers the Isles before me, I could lose what little influence I have in the Court. And I do not intend for Pazuzu to usurp Father's throne while he's in slumber."

"I'll die before he does that."

"In that case, Inanna, let us make the first move."

She looked up at him, astonished.

"You and I," affirmed Dumuzi, smiling. "We will launch an attack on the Isles with our own retinue. It will only require two weeks. We will catch the enemy between us and win glory before Pazuzu can even muster his forces."

Inanna nodded, licking her lips. "Count me in."

Dumuzi turned away, his wings stretching slightly. "I must retrieve my scimitars from my chamber. Wait for me. I will summon my retinue. We'll set off as soon as possible."

*

Fatima Harbour, South of the Continent

The galleon was old, weather-worn, and unworthy of her patronage as far as Galatea was concerned.

"It's all I got, good lady," apologized the old seaman, who was the owner of the ship. "At least, for a crowd like the seven of ya. A strange crowd you got there, too," he added, glancing at the human forms of Dauf and Riful. "But for seven passengers, this galleon is the best there is. All journey times are cut short by half. My guarantee."

_It's lucky they don't look completely out of place. A bit suspicious, perhaps. Not to mention we're on our last batch of pills_, thought Clare.

"How long will it take us to get to the Isles on this shipwreck ?" asked Galatea, her white eyes wary.

"Two weeks, milady."

Galatea's nose involuntarily wrinkled in distaste when she heard the answer to her question. "Two weeks? On this dirty ship?" she repeated unhappily as the seaman shrugged. She closed her eyes in vain frustration. The indignity. She had expected several hours, at most. Upon learning of her mistaken perception of how large the world actually was, Riful was about to tease her when Miria intervened to give the sailor his due sum of gold. He looked like an honest man; he was a portly, friendly-looking bearded seafarer who resembled one of the few people who had travelled between the Isles and the Continent more than once in his life. But he was still at the receiving end of Galatea's displeasure.

"There's no helping it," said Miria quietly. "I don't want to trouble any humans with a task we've taken upon ourselves, but can you take us here?" she said, revealing to the seaman her parchment of the Isles. He followed the trail of her finger, until his eyes rested on the far right end of the map.

His mouth opened in stupefaction. He looked at her. "If you're going to that, you should go here…" he said, wide-eyed, and then proceeded to whisper several sentences in her ear, much to Riful's curious annoyance.

Miria nodded as he continued to speak quietly with her and her alone. Lifting her head from his hand, she looked towards the ship. "This man will take us to the east of the Isles. I sought him out because he is a former lieutenant of the Army and knows his way around these seas well. We must be careful of the blizzards that'll hammer our journey throughout. I'll leave these problems to you," she said, addressing the seafarer.

"Right. But don't tell me you actually want to get to… well, y'know… Mt. Sumeru?" said the man nervously, scratching his beard. "The fabled route to the Dragons' capital…? That's one place I can't take you to, no matter how much money you pay me. The mere thought terrifies me more than anything in this big wide world. Quite frankly, I don't know why you'd want to go there at all."

"Don't worry," said Miria, wondering how far she should have taken this conversation. "I don't think launching an offensive on the imperial capital of the Dragons with a seven-member party is our intention."

"Didn't stop you from taking on the national Army with ten women," came Galatea's sarcastic mutter, and Cynthia glanced at her reproachfully, nevertheless unable to suppress a smile.

Hesitantly, the old seaman nodded. "Alright, then. I trust you, good lady." He turned around and waved to his fellow sailors, who had been busy anchoring the ship to the backwater dock, his hands signaling for them to lay down the plank for his patrons. "My boys'll be a bit peeved now that we're setting sail again," he said, turning back to the former warriors of the Organization. We just came back a few hours ago. But since you seem an honest one with the pieces of gold, I'll uphold my end our bargain. Can I trust you to pay me when we've raised anchor?"

"Don't worry," assured Miria. "A prestigious churchman from a city up north of here did one last favour for me, in the form of a monetary boon. You'll get the supplies you need very soon."

"Well said!" laughed the old sailor. "Alright then, ladies! All aboard!" He beckoned them to come with him. "We'll be setting sail as soon as we can!" He hurried off to ready the ship's cabins.

Riful bounced onto the galleon plank, Dauf lumbering behind her. Miria, Raphaela and Clare followed. Only Galatea hesitated. "I'm going to puke," she muttered, reluctantly striding forward, as Cynthia sympathetically took her hand.

*

Eve

Outside the grand diamond gates at the bottom of Mt. Sumeru, Dumuzi stood at the head of two dozen of his Royal Guard, who towered over him at eighteen feet, their giant, bladed tentacles wriggling patiently as their insectoid, six-eyed faces gazed expectantly at their Crown Prince. Digestive slime and black excretory fluids dripped down the shelled husks that encased their pulsating wurm bodies. They writhed in excitement, slobbering eagerly for his orders.

Compared to the human Army, the Descendants' organization of their forces were far less complex. The entire military body of the Nations was led by a single commander, who held the prestigious title of Enchanter General. By right that should have been granted to Dumuzi, but due to the underhanded, political influence of a senior Dragon called Pazuzu, he had remained unable to assume full control. It was for this reason that the Imperial Court had been plunged into internal bickering and endless gerrymandering, for the conflict between the Crown Prince and the Enchanter General threatened to tear the unity of the Tribes apart. Only Dumuzi's father, the Dragon Emperor, had the power to stop the conflict – whether through diplomacy or brutal force. However, for more than fifty years, he had remained in slumber in his throneroom. Shaman, vizier, minister, or handmaiden; none had been able to awaken him from his deep, dreamlike state.

Not even his own children.

An ill omen, if Dumuzi ever believed in one. Acknowledging his warriors with a generous nod, he glanced briefly at Inanna, who remained beside him. She nodded affirmingly.

He raised his scimitars, the dreaded and revered Crescent Hounds, whose blades had been forged from the bones of his grandfather. He lifted his horned head to the dark heavens as the wurms gurgled in praise. "We shall purge the Imperial Court of Pazuzu's corruption, once and for all. We will unify the Isles with Mt. Sumeru, and bring about an age of peace and charity that has been long overdue in a world that knows only bloodshed. Follow me, my friends! Pazuzu must be stopped."

He flapped his wings, and rose into the moonlit sky, his flat nostrils snorting out fumes. Inanna followed closely behind, her gossamer robes trailing in the night sky, and the Royal Guard hissed in obedience, their worming bodies quickly tunnelling into the deep, stony ground, following the scent of their master closely.

Their destination: the Isles.

However, they were already too late.


	3. Chapter 3: The Nightmare Begins

**Chapter 3: The Nightmare Begins**

A clawed foot slammed into the ground amidst the ruins of the Eastern Fort, the so-called impregnable barrier that once held back the Dragons from advancing into the human Nation. The supreme commander of the Dragons, Pazuzu, raised his demonic head, gazing at the destroyed ramparts of what the Descendant soldiers conversely called the 'Western Fort'. Twenty-eight feet tall, four rotting wings spread from the husk of his back, and his raw skin pores dripped all manner of poisons and plague-inducing substances. Underneath his repulsive exterior lay a body of hardened, trained muscle, capable of sending entire human divisions flying into the air with little effort. His face was a cadaver's face of rotting flesh, with a rabid dog's countenance. Observing his soldiers eating through the final wave of defenses, he spoke.

"Dumuzi. You hope to catch me; to best me? You are nothing more than a child. Can anyone in the Imperial Court stop me?" He looked at the hill of human corpses that had steadily piled in number as the battle dragged on. "Even if you invaded with all our armies, you would never conquer this realm. Your honour is outdated in a world that needs to see the Isles' complete destruction. Your family must eventually be eradicated… and I shall be the one to do it."

He raised his weapon, a monstrous halberd several storeys long. It was aptly named, _Pestilence_. "Finish this," he growled, his toxic breath clouding the sky a dark, sickly green. "Leave nothing of this human eyesore standing."

Monsters. It was the only word the soldiers of the East could have used to describe them. Their sighs of helpless terror were their last breaths as the monsters trampled over them, overrunning their weary and demoralized legions with brute force. Claws overcame shields. Tentacles bashed aside pikes and maces. Arrows were but an irritation to armoured skin. They came in every shape, size, form – demons, werewolves, ogres, serpents, lumbering giants – every creature that the human mind could have feared. And they charged, their swirling, gangrenous forms charging through the final gate that led to the world of humans. They shredded the Knights and their horses into chunks of meat, devouring them to replenish their insatiable hunger even as they continued to slaughter more of their victims' human comrades. The phalanxes of the spearmen were worthless. The heavy weapons of the halberdiers were of no use. Even the sentinel-like discipline of the Knights posed little threat. No longer were the Dragons hindered by mere force-of-arms, for they knew the man who wielded that force had died, along with what little hope the human Army had.

An age ago, when the Grand General fought alongside them, they were undaunted, fearless, indomitable. In victory, they would have been glorious. Even in defeat, they would have recovered quickly. Every waking day, they would valiantly cut down titans several storeys taller than them. There could not have been more hardened soldiers who defended the nation against the Dragons.

But without their most important leader, their resolve had largely broken. The Forts of the South had fallen the moment Lord Carmelo took his last breath. It was a pitiful sight, to see even the commander of the last division of Knights trampled upon by a lumbering Dragon peon, unhindered by even the most experienced human soldier.

"At last! After four generations of war, our valiant forces have broken through the West! We are in the territory of Man!" roared an ogre-like Dragon, raising his club of a fist into the air. His eyes shone with triumph as the other Descendants around him also shrieked their long-awaited breakthrough.

How could humanity have broken before these wild, demonic monsters?

"Topple the towers! Smash open the gates! Raze these accursed human strongholds to the ground!!" roared another, bear-formed Tribe member, throwing a boulder the size of a hill into a battalion of pikemen. A dull _thud_, and muffled screams.

How could Man have lost?

"Charge! Charge the gates! The humans are retreating! First, the soldiers! And then, the cities of our enemies!" bellowed a Dragon soldier with the head of a lion, as he ruthlessly impaled a Knight with his arm, his hand the size of his upper body. The humans below him screamed and began to flee.

It had been a long time since such a rout had occurred!

The joy of it all! The equilibrium had been shattered!

Praise the Ancestors!

"_**LONG LIVE HIS HIGHNESS, THE EMPEROR**_!!" The resonant, triumphant cry was deafening, shaking the mountains and valley around the battlefield and sending the remaining pieces of stone on the damaged fort crumbling down. The remaining hundred or so human Knights and archers backed away, awed, stunned, and most importantly, terrified, as the Dragons, emboldened by their own battlecry, overtook what remained of the battlefield. Wedged between the ruins of their citadel and two vast mountains, humans died like flies.

All hope had been lost. The triumphant roars of the Dragons were only matched by the human screams that echoed throughout the valley.

*

Miria and Riful led their five compatriots up a small, rocky hill that opened up into a range of plateaus that descended into a valley. "So the old man dropped us off on the so-called First Peninsula. It must be huge," commented Riful, looking around. "And this must be next line of defence for the humans against the Dragons? That is, if they have anyone left to patrol these lines," she added, looking at Miria. "Given the destruction of seven armies, I bet the vice-generals have all withdrawn their main forces to defend the capital instead."

"The west of the peninsula opens up into this wide canyon we see before us," said Miria, glancing back at the vast mountain range that separated them and the no-man's-land of the western lands. "Already, all the humans who once lived here have relocated. That city over there," she said pointing at a spired pinprick in the distance, "should be completely abandoned. It would be wise to retreat there if necessary. Nor do we have to hold back for civilians, because there'll be none."

"And these cave grottoes along this mountain would make an excellent base. I feel quite at home already." Riful hopped off Dauf's hand and gestured outwards. "Miria. We'll hold the line here. The Dragons, if they have received word of the Grand General's death, shouldn't be too far behind. They might even be at the western fortresses by now. I doubt the Army at its current state can do much except delay their advance north towards this area."

"So, they're headed here," said Raphaela. "How are we going to go about confronting them?"

Miria turned away. "I'll meet them head-on. I want to see what they're capable of. Clare. Raphaela. I'll be needing your skills, so come with me. Galatea, Cynthia, please stay with Riful."

"Why?" asked Galatea defiantly.

"I need you to defend this mountain border. Riful, consolidate this new base of ours. If we're beaten back, you'll be able to take up our offensive and hold the line, or retreat to that abandoned city if necessary."

"Roger," laughed Riful. "Are you off then, already?"

Clare and Raphaela moved beside Miria in silence. Only their leader spoke. "Wait for our good news," said Miria quietly. And with that, the three Ghosts vanished, their movement towards the south as light as the wind.

Riful shrugged, looking fondly at Dauf, who gave her a stupid grin. "Looks like you kids are stuck with us," she said to Cynthia, who visibly shivered. "Want some cookies before we get to work? I sneaked them on board the ship. They're guts-free, I promise."

"Pass," snorted Galatea. "I'd rather prepare for their attack. I don't want any of us losing their lives on day one."

"You'll get some action soon enough," soothed Riful. "After all – " she closed her eyes, her voice slightly more sombre. " – I can already sense their aura."

*

Basking in the aftermath of victory was boring.

Pazuzu observed the remaining human soldiers thrown into a mass grave just outside the ruins of the fortress. It was typical of his subordinates to celebrate so jubilantly after victories like these. But he knew that his most crucial battle would not be fought on the Isles. It would not even be fought against humans.

It would be fought against a fellow Dragon Kin.

He absently skewered several neglected bodies on the end of his finger, stabbing at the ground and into the scattered humans that remained. His withered claw easily punctured their bloostained armour, piercing into the soft bone and flesh underneath. One through the abdomen, one through the head, one through the floppy leg, and another through the groin. Gazing at the still open eyes of one of his pieces of meat, he licked his chops. _I have rarely fought enemies that make good replenishments for my troops afterwards_. He raised the four dead men to his mouth, keen to sample the taste of foreign victuals.

He was rather enjoying the crunch of bones and armour that accompanied the softness of the tender flesh when he was interrupted by a messenger. The serpent-man slinked before him. "Your Excellency! I bear important news. The Crown Prince has arrived in the southern plateaus of the Isles. It will not be long before his retinue catches sight of us. We've also detected a faint trace of unknown aura headed this direction. They might even be the Isles' defenders, having arrived to reinforce this region."

Pazuzu's yellow eyes suddenly burned brighter. He swallowed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Well, that's just beautiful, isn't it? If he's looking for a fight, he's come to the right place."

*

The sky was darkening. Had the day passed so quickly?

Miria suppressed an erratic flutter in her heart. Something was wrong. She glanced up at Clare and Raphaela, who had stood at a taller vantage from the jagged, rocky hills above. "Dragons do not possess Yoki," she warned. "Their taxonomy is unknown even to the Army and the Organization. My search in the archives never revealed any particular characteristic or weakness of the Descendants; only methods in which to fuse humans and Yoma together."

Something large was approaching. Something that shook the earth beneath them. An army? No. From the burning aura that suffused the entire valley, it could only come from one source; one unspeakably powerful source.

Raphaela raised her eyebrow as her Yoki flared. "Separate!" the assassin-warrior suddenly commanded, her voice fearful, as she tumbled away from a giant glob jet-black substance that had plastered itself against the rock on which she had been standing. The stone beneath instantly dissolved, melting like ice in summer.

Having leaped away to land beside Miria, Clare glanced up, her mouth open in disbelief. "So, this is what we've gotten ourselves into," she said wryly, unable to hide her alarm.

Stepping up from behind the craggy summit, a giant, dog-headed Descendant moved to stand before them, his four rotting wings flapping casually as his plague-infested body wriggled with living maggots the size of humans. His yellow eyes glinted as venomous saliva dripped from his hackles, splashing onto the mountainous range he stood on and eating away at the grass and stone. Miria whipped around. _He has no Yoki, only an aura with power beyond comprehension. Nor do we know how to fight against these monsters… _

"So this… this is a Dragon…" whispered Clare, awestruck. She instinctively drew her sword. "Miria. These swords were built for slaying Awakened Beings and Dragons according to your research, yes?"

"Greetings, children," said the dog-headed, winged demon suddenly, his deep, rasping voice like a scream of a madman. "The name is Pazuzu. I trust you have never met a Descendant of the Tribes in your short lives?"

Silence from the three puny women.

"Are you soldiers? Civilians? Somewhere in between? Militia? Travelling strumpets?"

"Miria," mouthed Raphaela urgently.

"Stay calm," said Miria. "We'll attack it from three directions – "

"How rude," said Pazuzu, raising his finger. "I can hear you ladies talk, you know." A jet of black plague shot from his claw again, and the three warriors scattered, as stone and shrubs melted at the Dragon's command. Miria's eyes turned yellow. "Pretty," whistled Pazuzu, as she hurtled up at him. "I don't know what you intend to do to me, but it seems you're not holding back – "

"Shut your filthy mouth." Raphaela's sword came from behind and cut Pazuzu's hackles, slicing through and lodging itself in his jaw. She had leaped up several storeys in order to reach him, and he growled, swiping at her. But his movements were clumsy, even for such a colossal beast. Raphaela calmly blocked his claw, and although she was not hurt, she was sent flying back. A weave past his wild punch, his fist the size of her entire body, and she had closed the gap between her blade and his face. She thrust –

His reaction was almost casual, as he raised his hand and backhanded first her sword, then Raphaela away. She felt the force of a hundred sledgehammers pound into her body, smashing her into the rocks of the cliffs. She felt all twelve ribs break instantly, from the force of Pazuzu's finger and the impact against the mountain. Vomiting blood she glanced upwards as the Descendant looked at Miria almost pityingly. "Damn… strong… " she tried to gasp, but her throat refused to force out her words.

Her larynx had been crushed.

Had the demon not damaged _any_ part of her body?

Clare dashed in front of the winged being, her Quicksword shooting towards his navel. "You want to hurt me with a spintop? I feel insulted." His casual slap of a hand hurled Clare several hundred yards away, her body burying itself in a rubble of sharp, hard stone. She did not emerge.

Miria forced herself to stay calm even as she furiously attacked, all her strength surging through her body. Pazuzu raised his hackles, his voice a low hiss. "You _fool_." His rotting fingers reached for her blade, but she changed the trajectory of her sword, quickly stabbing it through his palm. He growled, and spores of infectious maggots leaped off his gangrenous knuckles at her. Eyes widening, Miria leaped away, barely able to pull her sword out of Pazuzu's bleeding hand.

"What the hell are you?" she gritted in frustration, bashing aside a worm the size of her sword aside. It made a sickening popping sound on the ground even as it twitched, dying as it separated from Pazuzu's nourishing rot. "Clare!"

Rocks were hurled into the sky as Clare charged at the giant fiend, blood dribbling out her mouth. She dodged one of his angry swipes and cut at his hand, drawing a long trail of blood. Pazuzu faltered for a moment, allowing the two women to back away to regain their orientation.

The demon smirked. "My name is Pazuzu. I am the Enchanter General of the Dragon Army, the overlord of all armed forces on and throughout Mt. Sumeru."

"The Capital." Miria suddenly realized the futility of engaging with this particular Dragon. _He's far too powerful. Easily stronger, probably more experienced. We have to fall back_. She was about to signal to Clare when Raphaela had forced herself up, her legs trembling even as she sprinted at the Descendant commander. "Raphaela! We're retreating!" cried the leader of the Ghosts. _The three of us aren't a match for him_.

Pazuzu raised his claw. "As I said, you are all fools." He casually brought it down on Raphaela, and Miria had moved to help her when a gust of wind had forced her back. Debris of shattered stones pummelled her arms as she shielded her face from the unexpected cyclone.

_A windstorm? Here_? she thought, as she opened her eyes.

No.

"I've found you, traitor," came a deep, husky voice.

A smaller Descendant (or so Miria guessed) was standing before Pazuzu. Far shorter than the plague-infested demon, it had taken the newcomer two giant scimitars held together in the shape of a cross to block Pazuzu's single hand. Nevertheless, the horned, black-skinned, bat-winged Dragon was still large and powerful, thirteen feet and rippling with truly monstrous muscles. His hooves scraped along the ground as he resisted Pazuzu's weight. "Dumuzi!" hissed the Enchanter General. "You are interfering with affairs beyond your jurisdiction!"

"General," said Dumuzi, his voice filled with anger. His black, sunken face was like that of a corpse, the eyes just barely open, and the nostrils flat above him mouth, as if his nose had been eaten away. "The command of the Army belongs to me." He glanced at the astounded Raphaela, several feet shorter than him. "Health to you, human warrior. Unfortunately, it seems I was too late in claiming the Isles for myself. This battle may no longer concern you." And as he spoke, the ground began to shake. Raphaela glanced down. She looked at Clare and Miria, and the silent warning was clear.

Jump.

Miria leaped away, her face twisted in shock and disgust as the Royal Guard of Dumuzi burst from the ground, their husks of sliming armour breaking through the rocks that held the mountain range together. They clicked and gurgled, wriggling like grotesque, giant earthworms towards Pazuzu. The Enchanter General angrily aimed his fingers at them, and with a thought, sent his claws elongating and shooting towards the wurms. The creatures whined in agony as he punched through their armour and embedded his appendages deep within their soft, vulnerable flesh. Dumuzi attempted to force Pazuzu back, but Pazuzu was stronger and kicked him away, and the wurms surged toward the dog-headed Dragon even as he grabbed one of them and ripped it in half. Black blood showered the battlefield even as the three Ghosts, almost completely forgotten, dived for cover.

As the battle raged from behind the rocks, Miria struggled to take a better look even as the giant trench wurms collapsed from Pazuzu's relentless attacks. It was apparent why the Dragon called Dumuzi had brought reinforcements – he was no match for Pazuzu. Only his bone-white scimitars saved him from being pierced by Pazuzu's claws. "My dear lad, I had pre-empted your movements more than a week ago," purred Pazuzu. "Besides, I am in the middle of defeating the Isles' defenders for you. Are you not grateful?"

"You traitor!" Dumuzi spun and slashed at him again, his scimitar blocked by Pazuzu's elongated finger. "Are you implicated in Father's illness?"

"Why, what an accusation," hissed the other, bashing him away. Dumuzi staggered back, his body visibly shaken. "But instead of directing your infantile rage at me, perhaps you should turn your sword towards those whom we are supposed to conquer!" he cried, pointing towards the ridge where Clare had laid Raphaela behind.

His eyes met Miria's, and for a moment their gaze held. Wide, feminine, silver eyes stared into slitted, red ones. But before their connection could be deepened, Dumuzi tore his gaze away from her and looked back at Pazuzu. "Perhaps it is my unfortunate destiny to cross swords with them in the near future. But that they are fighting you is reason enough for me to spare their immediate lives." He pushed, knocking back Pazuzu several yards. He back away, his swords raised, and his wings flapping slowly, as if preparing to soar away. "Humans!" he growled. "Flee. This battle does not concern you."

Clare turned to Miria. "Perhaps it's unwise to stay here any longer without the others. We could use Riful and Dauf's help right now. They should have been able to sense our Yoki by now."

"I have spoken, humans," called Dumuzi again, his thick arms struggling under Pazuzu's claws. "Flee!"

"You're not doing so well yourself," observed Miria drolly. She emerged from behind the rocks, bringing up her sword. "You should worry more about your own safety – not that I care." She aimed her sword in between the two tussling Dragons – making it clear her intention to defeat them both. "Why are you here?" she asked, eyeing Dumuzi's ancient face.

He stared for a few moments, as Pazuzu smirked. At last, he said quietly, "To unite the Isles and Mt. Sumeru."

"So you're no different to him."

For a moment, Dumuzi faltered. But then his undead face turned angry. "I am nothing like this traitor. He seeks to overthrow my family. But I seek only to restore order to both the nations of the world. I may not be the greatest Descendant to walk the earth, but his authority is rightfully mine, for I am the Crown Prince of the Tribes."

Miria raised her eyebrow, masking her astonishment. _So the Dragons have an heirarchy. This one seems to be at the top… but he's not faring too well against someone who's meant to obey him_…

"If you will not do your duty, I shall do it for you!" cackled Pazuzu, pushing Dumuzi away and lurching towards the three Ghosts. Miria had barely held up her sword when knuckles the size of her head smashed into her weapon, sending a shockwave through her very body. She was flung back, too quickly for Raphaela or Clare to intercept her.

Miria was about to grit her teeth to resist the pain. She wouldn't need to. Dumuzi had hurled himself past Pazuzu and caught her flying body in his arms. She looked up in surprise, silver eyes meeting crimson slits once again. Her bright hair pressed against his dark, hairless chest, and his grip was surprisingly firm. "Human lady, you need not fight," he urged, his voice uncertain… concerned. "Retreat."

"Release me," snapped Miria at once.

Taken aback, his eyes faltering, Dumuzi obeyed, and Miria tore herself away from his arms, glaring at Pazuzu. But as much as she hated to admit it, her rescuer was right. At the moment, there was little advantage and much folly in staying to fight Pazuzu. Perhaps if all seven of them were here, their abilities and powers might add up to something…

One of the wurms that had lain motionless, pierced in multiple areas by Pazuzu's claws, gurgled at Dumuzi. Although it was on the verge of death, Dumuzi understood its clicks and squeals. He closed his eyes briefly. "Forgive me, old friend." He pointed his scimitar at Pazuzu."I seek a greater future for Mt. Sumeru. Though you might mock me, for the sake of that future I will retreat!"

And with that, his wings flapped, and he surged upwards, alone. He turned and began to fly, casting one last brief glance at Miria, who, to her bewilderment, looked away. But before she could seek out his eyes again, he had soared away, his wings deceptively light and fast.

"The Ancestors have given me a most perfect opportunity," smiled Pazuzu. "Did you think I'd let you live so easily?" But just as he had flapped his rotting wings, four deceptively thin ribbons had cut one of them away with the neatness of a seamstress. Pazuzu roared in surprise and rage as he stumbled, blood pouring out of his infested back. He glanced in rage behind him. "Who – "

Clare breathed an awed sigh. "Riful."

"Hi there," giggled Miria's ally. In her Awakened form, the former Number One was huge, her sea of smooth ribbons spreading across the mountains like a polluted canopy. She whimsically flicked back her hair with her powerful hand as Dauf emerged, crouched beside her. He growled, sneering at Pazuzu, and stood up, cracking his armoured knuckles. "I'm glad I know your Yoki," said Riful, smiling fondly at Clare. "But I think it's time to swallow your pride and retreat. In the words of Galatea, 'I don't want any of us losing their lives on day one.'"

Clare looked at Miria, her eyes uncertain. Miria looked upwards at the sky. "Pursue the bat-Dragon," she said. "We'll chase after the residue of his aura. He doesn't know how to read Yoki from half-human, half-Yomas. It's not too late. We'll chase him down, defeat him, and reunite to beat this so-called General."

"You dare to mock me," spat Pazuzu, trying to fly again, only to have his other two wings sliced off by a nonchalant Riful. "You will rue this day. For I now know your faces. You can never escape, not even if you run to the ends of the earth!"

Clare and Raphaela were still unsure about Miria's sudden command when Riful's black body shuddered in irritation. "I don't hold back when things get serious," said the tall, macabrely beautiful Abyssal. "I'm sure you don't like getting caught in crossfires," she added, looking at Clare. "It tends to… hurt innocents."

Clare glared at the Abyssal One, unable to reply.

"I've no time for this." Strapping her sword back behind her, Miria gestured to Clare and Raphaela. After a last moment's hesitation, they followed, sprinting away from Pazuzu and into the woodlands near the valley, chasing down the Crown Prince of the Dragons.

From the battlefied, they fled.

*

As the Ghosts vacated the hilly mountain that yawned before the valley below it, Riful and Dauf stood facing Pazuzu, their height similar, with Dauf being the tallest. The sun was by now dipping below the peaks; nightfall was imminent.

"Well, it's just you and us, quipped Riful. "Hungry?"

Pazuzu sneered. "Do not bait me."

Riful's usually friendly face unexpectedly broke into a contemptuous sneer, one that even Dauf glanced at uneasily. "I'm not baiting you. I'm challenging you."

"Uh, dear…"

"Quiet, Dauf."

Pazuzu glared at them both. "Very well. I'll indulge you." He raised his hand and it suddenly elongated, a blade bursting out of his palm. His own blood gushed out and trickled down his appendage even as he gripped his self-produced lance Pestilence tightly. "You'll regret resisting my power," he said, licking his jowls.

Dauf roared and opened his hands, aiming his rods at the Dragon.

Riful's black ribbons began to slink upwards. "Bring it on, you ugly mongrel."


	4. Chapter 4: Soul Reap

**Chapter 4: Soul Reap**

Miria sprinted as she had never sprinted in her life. In a certain way, she could not believe her luck. The Crown Prince of the Descendants had arrived on the Isles. She had never expected to reach the ruling powers of the Descendants so quickly. Admittedly, it was a refreshing change from scouring mouldy, dusty archives for clues on who had engineered the Awakened Beings.

_Now is the perfect chance to understand exactly how the Dragon Nations work. If I subdue and capture him, I'll need no one else._

_But can I defeat him? I shouldn't use his farce with the other Descendant as a measure of his ability against me_.

She skidded to a halt, her hand raised as Clare and Raphaela ground to a halt behind her. Amidst an opening in the woods, Dumuzi was crouched on the ground, his back heaving as he gasped for air. His body was hunched, his wings folded around him as he clutched at the grass beneath him. Miria's eyes narrowed. _That fight must have tired him out more than he let on_.

From the corner of his eye, he caught them. "Greetings once again, human warrior," he rasped, his voice exhausted. "I don't know how you could catch me so quickly nor do I know how you managed to find me. I only wish that you didn't have to see me like this."

"Your aura is an impressive one," replied Miria wryly. "So impressive, in fact, that you seem to have forgotten to hide it when you beat your hasty retreat."

"We could defeat him here and now, and the Dragons would be forced to withdraw," said Raphaela, drawing her sword. "Killing him might even plunge the Dragons into chaos – just like the Army."

Wearily, Dumuzi held up his scimitar in one hand, bracing for an attack.

"Wait," muttered Miria. "I have some questions to ask him."

"What are you waiting for?" growled Raphaela. "The three of us can – "

"I won't be defeated that easily," interrupted the Crown Prince, forcing himself to rise. "I ask you not to judge me by what you saw earlier, for Pazuzu, on his own, is an elemental force that requires many opponents to bring their strength together to topple him." But just as Miria bent her legs to prepare for his attack, he unexpectedly lowered his swords again. His eyes gleamed. "Nevertheless, I do not believe that, with my once-loyal friend on the rampage, our duel is a wise endeavour."

"You would place your trust in complete strangers to engage in some bizarre dialogue?" asked Miria incredulously.

"My life has so often been at risk from betrayal to the point that there is only one whom I trust completely. But the Ancestors have said nothing about the ways of humans." He narrowed his red eyes, though it was in concentration, not hostility. "I would like to open a proposition, human leader," he said.

_Human leader? I'm afraid you hold me in too high a regard_. A pregnant pause. Nevertheless, Miria held up her hand. "Leave us for a moment," she said.

Raphaela and Clare were not convinced.

"We're about to deal a crushing blow to your precious Isles' attackers, and you want to play diplomat?"

"We'll talk about this later. Alright?" said Miria, her voice unrelenting.

Clare and Raphaela hesitated, before turning their backs and disappearing into the forest. They shouldn't have gone far. With a mind of one, she turned to Dumuzi.

"Why were you fighting him?" he asked quietly.

Was the answer not obvious? "Because like you, he has taken advantage of the human Army's current pinch to attack the Isles. As far as I'm concerned, you're both guilty of a sovereign invasion on national soil."

"That he would pre-empt me is something I should have foreseen. It is also something I must stop. I do not wish to justify myself in your eyes, but his designs for your Nation are far more sinister than my vision for the world. He draws no distinction between friend or foe; his whims are entirely his. I once felt differently, and believed in his sincerity. And witness where I am now," he added, breaking into a bitter laugh. "It is true that I fight for my people, and it is legitimate that you challenge me here and now. But – " he cautioned, "kill me, and I sincerely believe that _both_ our worlds will burn at the hands of Pazuzu."

"You're not expecting me to – "

"No. But if I swear upon my royal honour that I will not move against your Nation's armies until I have dealt with Pazuzu?"

"From the way you speak, you sound like you aren't powerless against him… when I witnessed the precise opposite."

He lowered his head. "There is one place," he muttered, "a stronghold which my sister established as soon as we had arrived in the Isles. Currently, she is securing our current position, bracing for an attack from both humans and Pazuzu. I have left her to do as she sees fit for now. But perhaps if she had been here, fighting beside me, we could have fought with a bit more dignity…

"It is true that I have failed miserably. I have lost twenty-four of my Royal Guard. I was reminded once again of how far I still have to reach my one-time comrade. But for the sake of harmony, I will not relinquish my current position simply because I am at a disadvantage. Pazuzu may not possess a vision for this world's future, but I do. Furthermore," he added, as he neared Miria, "I believe that should you aid me this once, I have the means to carry out that vision."

His body was edging closer towards hers. She was surprised that she had no urge to draw her sword. "What idiot would listen to a vision of her enemy's?"

"An idiot who understands the predicament of her own Nation," countered Dumuzi gravely. "I know the Grand General is dead. He was the one man who held this human Nation together," he added, noticing Miria's surprise. "Even as his longtime enemy, I knew that without him, your Nation has little hope for a true future. And I assure you, Pazuzu is not the one who wishes to renew that future."

"I do not trust you," she said plainly.

Strangely, Dumuzi's black face broke into a small smile. "I am not surprised. I am, after all, asking for you to spare my life and to unite with me against a foe that is of my own personal concern. The fear of betrayal is quite understandable, perhaps even wise. But this War can only rage for so many generations. Long divided, I would hope for the land to be united. Surely you wish for the chaos to end too?"

Miria did not expect such simplistic honesty. _You'd admit that so readily? You're no statesman_.

Their eyes reflected the other's. Staring into his pools of red, Miria stepped closer. So close, that in the cold forest, Dumuzi could feel her breath on his chest. "How, exactly, do you expect to convince me of your sincerity?"

Dumuzi smiled. "Let me show you."

*****

_Nightfall_

"Do you think they need our help?" asked Cynthia anxiously as Galatea took hold of her sword.

"No, kitten. Riful and Dauf will handle themselves sufficiently well, even in the event that the Dragon is so strong they're forced to retreat." She beckoned for Cynthia to join her. "Do you sense it?"

Cynthia concentrated, stilling her mind and closing her eyes. "Before, there were masses of powerful auras. Now, only three. And they don't belong to Miria, Clare, or Raphaela."

"One of them is different to the other two," stated Galatea. "It must be a Dragon. Quite impressive, for it to have chased away those three," she muttered, as Cynthia wandered out of the cave to watch the moon. "It's been several hours now. Not even major battles take this long. What in the world is going on over there?"

Cynthia's voice suddenly filtered through the yawning entrance. "Um…"

"Hm?"

"Erm…"

"Speak up, kitten," urged Galatea. "Did you see something?"

"Uh… I think we have company," mumbled Cynthia, staring up at a large, vulture-winged woman. Despite her giant stature, she was well-proportioned through her pale, clear robes, and her large eyes sparkled with what Cynthia hoped was a mischievous joy rather than a sadistic malevolence.

"I can't hear you," called Galatea from inside the cave. Cynthia could not reply as the newcomer crouched down on one knee, so that Cynthia could look down into her eyes. _How did she get here? And without our noticing_?

It was too late to think about that now. "Hello," squeaked Cynthia, her hand hesitantly moving towards the pommel of her sword. "Who are you?"

"Hi," laughed the larger female. "Sorry for the intrusion, but we've gotta talk."

*

"It's all your fault," raged Riful, her pink clothes shredded and almost useless as Dauf carried her in his arms, his bloodied body spilling gore with every fleeing step he took. "If you hadn't interfered at my last attack, he wouldn't have taken advantage of your dull, stupid, small brain to – " "I'm so sorry," cried Dauf, his ugly human face bleeding from a horrendous gash to his eye. "I had no idea he could overpower even my – " "Argh, enough excuses," interrupted Riful, her voice turning even more serious. "We're going to have to pull back. Back to that empty city. We overestimated that husk of a rotting piece of dung. I can only hope Miria hasn't been wasting all this time romping around with the others.

"This is a farce of seven. Even with the seven of us against that beast, I'm not liking our chances. We need more. More who would stand against these beasts. Anyone who can help us regain the ground we've lost."

"What are you going to do?" whimpered Dauf, as he hurtled through the forest, his blood generously splashing the trees he ran past.

"Sulk," replied Riful angrily, adjusting her torn pink dress.


	5. Chapter 5: Fire from the Sky

Chapter 5: Fire from the Sky

_East of the Isles. Night_

The Crown Prince of the Dragons had offered to ally with Miria in the hope of defeating the traitor known as Pazuzu. "I assure you, human leader," he had said, "that my vision for this world… is a benevolent one; far different to that of the Plague Lord's. Do you not also wish for the land to be reunited after so many years of chaos? But as the Grand General no longer rules over the Isles, I now need your trust if I am to unite the world."

"How do you expect to convince me of your sincerity?" Miria had asked, their bodies just brushing one another's.

"Let me show you." Dumuzi raised his crescent scimitar, and before Miria could stop him, he cut into his other arm, drawing blood of a foreign hue. Pressing his sword harder on his black flesh, he declared solemnly, "I swear on the honour of His Highness, my Father the Emperor, that I will repulse Pazuzu from Mt. Sumeru as well as the Isles. And after Pazuzu is eradicated, I will convince Father to conquer the Isles by winning the hearts of humans, rather than razing their cities. This is my vision of peace after many generations of war which I, with my own blood, extend to you."

Miria raised her eyebrow. "Grand words, even for a Prince." She shook her head. "Sorry. But true sincerity is something I've always had trouble believing in."

She had expected him to fly into a positively royal rage. But to her surprise, his slitted eyes reflected something completely unexpected: disappointment… and a hint of compassion. "You are a warrior through and through, are you not?" he sighed, lowering his bleeding arm. "It seems I have been unable to win your trust, even upon a most unpretentious vow."

His words caught her off-guard. For years she had only a few companions – the Ghosts whom she had led during all this time; all these battles. They were the only ones who she felt she could open her heart to. And so should it have been. She had never met anyone outside of Clare and the others who were not enemies. She did not even trust Riful completely, although her alliance with her had been forged solely out of necessity; and apart from Cid and Galk, not even humans had fully warranted her trust; not when she had been forced to kill so many during the Battle of Darene Plains.

The smiling face of Lord Carmelo flashed through her mind.

_Perhaps humans were the ones who couldn't be trusted all along_…

A flash of inspiration suddenly penetrated her mind. "Wait." Dumuzi glanced at her. She nodded. "There is a way."

He smiled invitingly, waiting for her to elaborate.

She drew her sword. "Challenge me. Should you win, I will grant you your alliance."

Dumuzi continued to smile. Miria wondered at how he could not spit at her audacity – an unknown soldier, allowing a Prince of the Tribes to challenge her in one-on-one combat. But it seemed Dumuzi thought otherwise. "A noble and honest proposition." He raised himself to his full height – several generous feet taller than her – and brought up his second sword, so that the twin blades, white as snow, reflected the beaming moonlight.

"These are my Crescent Hounds," he said. "Forged from the bones of my grandfather, they have served me well in combat for many years. It is with these swords that I challenge you, human leader."

Miria steadied her sword, backing away. There were several tall trees around them, although the opening was large enough for a close-quarters, close-contact duel. "Then what are you waiting for?" she asked. "Come get your alliance."

For much of her life, Miria had settled things that could not have been settled otherwise through duelling. Her very first duel, so to speak, had been with Hilda, when she was only in her adolescence. She had tested the mettle of Clare through several other face-offs, the most recent having been several years ago, when they made the decision to leave the North and embark on a campaign against the Organization.

She hated to admit it, but to find herself in a confrontation with the Prince of the Descendants was quite an… opportunity.

Dumuzi slashed at her, his thick arm deceptively fast. She weaved past his powerful stroke, and thrust with all the speed she could muster. To her surprise, Dumuzi did not use his superior strength to try pushing her away. Instead, he parried, flicking his sword at a favourable angle, deflecting Miria's attack and bringing her gravity's force against her. She stumbled past him, and he backed away, his hooves rumbling quietly on the forest grass. He eyed her cautiously as she regathered herself.

_He's strong, but not a brute. He's powerful, but not at the cost of his speed or reflexes._

_He's no Awakened Being_.

For such a huge creature, he was graceful and moved with the skill of a swordsman not unlike Carmelo – except that his scimitars were larger than her. They dwarfed her Claymore, and the force with which they smashed down on the ground proved it. She danced back and somersaulted forwards, her Yoki stirring within her. Her speed suddenly increased as he was forced aside from her counterattack. Miria found herself grudgingly admiring the Prince's sharp mind as he met her new power with greater strength. As their swords locked, and their faces met, he brought his right hand up and pushed his two swords in a cross-shape, giving him an advantage in balance. Miria felt herself almost collapsing under his formidable weight, and she was forced to roll away even as her legs turned to jelly.

As she felt her back touching the cool, wet, blades of grass, Dumuzi's hooves suddenly looked larger.

But he did not use them. He twisted above her, and as she flipped back on her feet, he spun, a circle of sharp bone threatening to behead her. She felt blood trickling from her collarbone, just above her black leather. "Now you've done it." Miria's yellow eyes focused, and her Mirage visibly confused Dumuzi, who raised his swords in a cross-block. "That won't work," she said, as the illusions disappeared, and he turned too late to have Miria cut into his thigh. Her strategy was successful. Although his mighty aura was obvious, her own was almost impossible to read. _You've never met a human-Yoma hybrid before, have you? You probably don't even know what a Yoma is_.

She bashed aside his forearm, albeit with some difficulty. His horned head was completely exposed. She leaped up and kicked him in his noseless face, and he growled in frustration, swiping more carelessly at her. She somersaulted, cleaving into his shoulder, her brutality surprising both combatants. The shoulder wound was not the only thing he had been taken aback by. "I'll say this much," said Miria calmly. "You might not believe me. But I am the person who killed the Grand General of the humans." She took advantage of Dumuzi's shock and dug deeper, until a roar of pain told her to stop before their duel turned into a brawl. Dumuzi struggled to twist away from her, and the back of his hand met her arm. She was flung back, and unwilling to provoke him further, she released her sword and rolled away.

He staggered back, still dazed at Miria's revelation. "No…"

"What?" she panted, as Dumuzi roughly pulled out her Claymore from his flesh and bone. He dropped it, and it landed with a hard thud.

"No." He looked at her, and to her shock, his demonic face had broken into a smile, and was filled with a gentle recognition. "I believe you. You are the one who triumphed against Carmelo – I can see why. You do not hold back, even in a spar, do you?" he took hold of his bloodsoaked shoulder and went on one knee, so that his head met the height of her chest. He grinned, baring his jagged teeth. "Your brilliant skill fills me with awe, human leader. Even if this was not a critical battle, it has allowed me a glimpse of your true abilities. I couldn't even read your aura and you seemed to read many of my own movements, which leads me to believe…" he hesitated. "that you are not as 'human' as you look."

Miria neared him, her feet pattering lightly on the grass in contrast to his heavy hooves. Even when crouching, he was huge, his horns brushing lightly against her arms. One sudden movement, and he could have gored her. But he did not even move. "So… it seems our alliance cannot be a possibility," he said, his voice a bitter growl. "Not when I have failed to impress you."

Miria could not help smiling. For such a supposedly formidable foe, he was so… pure. So naïve. Almost childish.

It was as if he had not tasted betrayal since childhood, unlike her.

_Of course. You've never been locked in a cold cell, or been forced to kill your own friend, have you? That is the life of a Claymore, not a Dragon Prince_.

It was as if he truly trusted her, and truly desired her trust.

_You look like a demon. Why do you sound like such a… boy_?

A long time ago, her comrades had placed their faith in her to lead them.

Perhaps it was time to pass on that confidence, even if it amounted to only a little, to someone else.

"I will take you to my comrades," she murmured. "We'll discuss this a bit… further."

He slowly raised his head. Surprise – and gratitude – reflected in his eyes. He offered his arm, and although Miria felt like flinching, she stilled when he took her small hand in his black palm. She did not resist, hoping for him to speak words, words that would applaud her decision, affirm her fragile commitment. And he did not disappoint. "From the bottom of my heart, I thank you," he said, his lipless smile one of the first she had ever seen. "But… I do not yet know your name. May I have it, noble human?"

"Miria," she replied, giving the slightest of sincere grins. "My name is Miria, Prince Dumuzi."

"Miria. If it is not too much for you to answer, why did you kill Carmelo? Are you not fighting for the humans?" asked the Dragon, as he slowly rose.

She sighed, her hand reluctantly releasing his and loosening the string that held her hair up. "It's a long story. Why don't we get the others, and I'll tell you what you want to know as we walk."

*

It was now dawn.

The sunlight shone through the entrance of Riful's new cave, illuminating the creatures within.

"_You_ are a Dragon?" asked Miria again, her voice disbelieving. She was staring up at a beautiful brunette in transparent robes, although the vulture wings that grew from her slender back somewhat betrayed her Descendant nature.

"Funny. Galatea asked me that question last night and I gave the same answer," grumbled Inanna, who was clutching at Dumuzi's arm. She and her brother stood over the sitting forms of Galatea, Cynthia, Clare and Raphaela while Riful and Dauf watched. Miria still remained standing, eyeing Inanna cautiously.

The night, as far as she was concerned, had been long. Unbeknownst to her, however, Inanna had introduced herself to Galatea and Cynthia during her duel with Dumuzi, and before long, her bubbling, lively personality had earned Cynthia's trust, although Galatea was far more reluctant. "My brother, Prince Dumuzi, has been engaged in an internal struggle with a traitor for several years now," she had told them. "That traitor has now invaded the Isles, and Dumuzi is also here. He might even have met your friends, if you have any with you."

"We do," Cynthia had said, frowning at Galatea's silence. "But will they be coming back?"

And it was only during the early morning, when the larks had begun singing outside the cave, when all were reunited. Inanna had introduced Dumuzi as the Prince of Mt. Sumeru, and Dumuzi revealed the new friendship he had established with Miria. An alliance, he assured his newfound comrades, that would be imperative to defeating Pazuzu.

"Strange alliances," sighed Riful, throwing up her hands. "Awakened Beings, former warriors of the Organization, and two Royal Dragons. Who would've thought?"

Dumuzi's eyes met Miria's, and for a moment, their gazes locked. Perhaps it was because of the deep, unfathomable red of the Prince's slits, but Miria looked away, unable to push away the events of the night before from her conscious. "I will fight alongside Miria," he said suddenly. "Inanna. You may divide up our meagre forces whatever way you wish. But this expedition will be led by Miria and I."

"So, what do you propose?" asked Riful.

"At this point, I suspect Pazuzu has established his base in the Western Fort, from which is the pathway to the homeland of the Tribes. We will launch an attack there and crush Pazuzu in one decisive battle. Only this way can we avoid further bloodshed. Miria also told me that the existence of these so-called Yoma and Awakened Beings are unknown to Dragons. Which makes sense to me," he added, smiling. "In this case, we should be able to ambush Pazuzu and gain an initial advantage."

"Furthermore, Pazuzu has sent another detachment east of the borders, to the first cities of the Isles," said Inanna, her beautiful face serious. "He must be halted before he breaks through."

"Rather straightforward," said Galatea, crossing her arms. "We'll divide ourselves into two parties, then. Perhaps Dauf, Riful and I could hold the line at the border cities, and you and the others will move against the Western Fort. But what if something goes wrong?"

Miria, Dumuzi and Inanna could only nod in acknowledgement, although they remained silent.

*

Amidst the ruins of the Western Fort, the soldiers of Pazuzu lumbered about aimlessly, waiting for their commander to make a decision. The wings of the Enchanter General had more or less healed, although the plague that infested his own body did not help to accelerate his recovery. "My, my. At this rate, my wings really will never regain their original… lustre," he growled, not looking at the two Dragons that had landed on two standing pillars behind him. "Do you never learn, Crown Prince? Or must I beat it into your sister too?"

"Rest easy," growled Dumuzi, raising his swords. "After all, it is inevitable… the time when the land shall unite itself, with the sole purpose of ridding it of you."

"What are you blabbering on about, you bat-winged fool?"

Pazuzu's sneer was wiped off his face as Raphaela, Clare and Galatea landed before him. In an astoundingly swift attack, they slashed their swords at him, forcing him to block with his arm. His flesh wept blood as they lunged again, even as Dumuzi and Inanna began to tear into Pazuzu's Dragon allies. _Where did they come from_? He looked upwards. _Above_?

Cynthia's sword was the only thing he saw before he glimpsed his own blood. Shrieking in pain and rage, he flung the woman off him, clutching at his left eye socket. The bone and tissue had been punctured, and fluid and blood wept from his pouring eyeridge even as Cynthia leapt away, pulling her sword out of his face. "An ambush," he realized, as Raphaela and Galatea charged again.

_And the aura of those women… I couldn't read them. I had no idea they were here. The whores. Now I have no choice but to_…

His halberd, Pestilence, burst from his skin, and he gripped it tightly in both hands. "You fought me without my treasured weapon last time, and you barely survived," he snarled. "Do not overstep your limitations." He swung, and Raphaela and Clare were thrown back, smashing into the side of a mountain. "If you're lucky, your pathetic little craniums will not have given way yet." He turned. "And what am I going to do with you?" he hissed, looking down at Cynthia. He raised Pestilence and stabbed downwards. Cynthia rolled away as a tremor shook the fort. She dashed and cut at his hand, drawing black gore. Roaring in bloodlust, Pazuzu bashed away Raphaela again, who had sprinted towards his crouched form, and swiped at Cynthia, who raised her sword too late. His infected claws neared her head –

Galatea's sword blocked his blade – and its wielder staggered back, collapsing into Cynthia's arms. "He's strong," muttered Galatea. "So strong, that I don't think any of us can beat him with just physical ability."

"Yoki," said Cynthia in realization. "Is that what you're thinking of?"

"That's right. Miria!" called Galatea, and a blurred image stepped in between her and Pazuzu, hurtling towards the canine monster. And although Galatea was hurled away by the force of Pazuzu's fist, Miria managed to slice a painful over his arm, dancing away from his halberd.

_So many of them – these are difficult opponents_. Pazuzu's remaining right eye narrowed as he raised Pestilence. "Don't push your luck." He hissed, and his hands tightened on his weapon. "You drew blood from me – I will not spare you." The flat of Pestilence smashed into a charging Clare, and she was flung into the side of the mountain again. Her bleeding head dislodged loose pebbles that held together a mass of boulders, and the ensuing rockfall buried her completely. She did not emerge.

The remaining four warriors hurtled upwards. Four pairs of silver eyes turned yellow. A giant swing of a Claymore from Raphaela came his way. An upwards thrust from Cynthia. Miria's blindingly fast cutting sequence and Galatea's lethal stroke. The women, as one, brought their weapons down on Pazuzu's head.

The jackal-demon spun his halberd, twisting forwards. The first swipe smashed Galatea in the face, cracking her jaw and propelling her into the rubble of the Western Fort. The bladed end of his spinning weapon cut into Miria's legs, severing her sinews instantly with horrifying accuracy. Crying blood, her legs failed her, and she fell towards the hard ground, head first. She landed on her skull, and did not move thereafter. He held his halberd up as he completed his revolution, blocking Raphaela and Cynthia's attacks. Suspended in mid-air, they struggled against the titanic strength of the Enchanter General. "Impossible!" roared Raphaela, losing control, pushing at him frenetically.

"Ha!" grinned Pazuzu viciously, suddenly thrusting forward with Pestilence, his powerful legs pushing his weight ahead. The gargantuan blade sliced into Raphaela, carving a deep, welt across her body. She followed Miria, falling down and landing painfully on the ground twenty feet below. Cynthia desperately tried to break the deadlock, but it was too late. Pazuzu simply spun his halberd again, and the pole end, like it did with Galatea, buried itself in Cynthia's face. Blood spurting from her broken nose, the young warrior careened down to the ground, amidst the bodies of her friends. "Did you enjoy that? Did you?! There are none who can stand before me!"

Cynthia did not reply. Blood trickled from her head.

She had been knocked out, along with Galatea.

Miria moaned briefly, her defiant body twitching. Pazuzu glanced down at her and smiled. "Ha. Aren't you a tenacious one."

Even as he loomed down and took her helpless form in his hand, Inanna had pulled her spear out of the last rebel Descendant. Around the two royal heirs lay the bodies of several dozen Dragons who had thrown their lot in with Pazuzu. They were but riffraff, thugs who could not hold a candle to royal power. Dumuzi released the severed head of one of these foolish scum, looking hatefully at Pazuzu. "Release her," he commanded, pointing at the bloodsoaked body of Miria. "Let us finish it here, and be done with this."

Pazuzu smirked. "Oh, you wish it would be that easy, do you not?" He raised his halberd, and roaring, smashed it down onto the ground. Dumuzi shifted in front of Inanna, protecting her as he covered his own face. Boulders, rocks, and gravel shot into the sky as Pazuzu's strike penetrated the very bed of the land. The earth quaked, and a wild chasm opened up amidst the rocky mountain. From the force of Pazuzu's arm alone, Pestilence had sundered the terra firma, revealing a yawning crevasse that led down to an unknown abyss.

Dumuzi's eyes narrowed. Only the Ancestors could know what lay within that infernal rift.

And with the casual air of a child tossing away an unwanted book, the Enchanter General callously dropped the unconscious Miria into the deep gorge he had just created with his own hands.

"**HOW DARE YOU!**"

Hooves thundering, Dumuzi lunged past Pazuzu, pushing him aside, and prepared to leap down the crevice.

"Are you sure you want to save _her_?" hissed Pazuzu delightedly.

"What – "

Without warning, the Enchanter General turned past his Prince and threw his halberd in the manner of a javelin at a shocked Inanna. The blade plunged into her and penetrated her stomach, spilling out her innards as black pores from the weapon began to creep into her flesh. Already, maggots were moving in, slithering from the end of the halberd to her soft, fleshly body. A moment passed in silence as Dumuzi turned, roaring in horror and rage and loving despair.

But he was stopped by her raised hand.

"Go," choked Inanna, grabbing the halberd and bravely ripping it out of her own abdomen. Another gush of infected blood. "I'll be fine."

"But – "

"I have always followed you, elder brother," smiled Inanna, her lovely, brown-haired face biting back tears. "You know how tenacious I am."

"I – "

"Go… save her. I will return to you… when I have the chance."

Dumuzi turned, his shoulders heaving. "I will avenge you," he whispered, turning and hurling himself into the canyon in pursuit of Miria's body.

Pazuzu growled in satisfaction. The two leaders of this pathetic alliance had disappeared down the fissure. The strange, aura-less women lay around him, wounded and unconscious. And all that was left was Inanna. "How noble," gloated Pazuzu, stepping before the swaying Princess, who had dropped his halberd. "You haven't changed, have you? Child."

"May the Ancestors curse you," spat Inanna, her vulture wings flapping faintly, her hands unable to stop the profuse bleeding. "I would've done anything for my brother, even before he saved me from your disgusting hands. My loyalty to the Crown Prince will never falter."  
"You will defend Dumuzi," confirmed Pazuzu, his voice growing more enraged by the moment, "unto death?"

"Unto death," cried the Princess.

"Then die a death of agony, here in the ruins of the Western Fort," snorted the Enchanter General, backhanding her. Without so much as a groan, she fell, collapsing amidst the corpses of the rebel Dragons. Pazuzu kicked her aside, scooping up his halberd with his clawed foot. He smiled, bending down and picking up the lifeless body of Cynthia in his hand. "Although… at the very least, I can pull apart the bitch who took away my eye.

"I will set fire to this place. I will ensure that neither your or your allies' ashes remain." Pazuzu lurched away from the silent Inanna, refusing to look back. "And not just you. The humans, the Royal House of Anu – they shall all burn. At my hand. And not just them. This _world_ shall burn."

He looked at the helpless Cynthia again. "And with this trophy of war, I will amass reinforcements, and move onto the cities of the Isles."


	6. Chapter 6: Cyanide Affection

**Chapter 6: Cyanide Affection**

Cynthia's eyes fluttered open. She quickly took in her surroundings. It was dark… cold. She looked up, her body pinned underneath the dog-headed man Pazuzu. His remaining eye gleamed with an infernal light as he pushed downwards, pressing her down on a hard, uncomfortable surface. A smile flittered on his canine countenance. As she allowed her eyes to focus, she realized a dark roof hung over them – that of a large cathedral, or perhaps a government building. They must have arrived in a city. But that meant –

Her heart lurched. Had they been defeated?

And as the Dragon commander rose and backed away, she realized it was not he who held her down.

Spikes did.

Spread-eagled and completely naked, large nails had been driven through her palms and feet, pinning her on a wide bench of rotting wood. She had been stripped of her clothes and her legs forced apart by her captors. Her own blood stained four corners of the plank, and she must have been nailed here for several hours at least; for the pain had subsided, if only in response to such torture.

She had been crucified – in a manner.

"She awakens," hissed Pazuzu in Draconic.

She bucked on the bench, to no avail. She felt the carelessly hammered nails sliding through the flesh and bone of her extremities. She tried to cry out Galatea's name, but all that would come out of her mouth was her own blood.

"Missing something?" asked the Enchanter General, holding up her wet larynx. "Worry not, I will keep your parts in good condition, unlike how you treated my eye. After all, you are nothing more than my specimen now; an item that will reap valuable information in the battles to come. Know that your sacrifice will be pivotal in the Dragons' triumph over formidable warriors such as yourself."

Tears ran down her face as she glared at him, unable to speak. Around the Enchanter General, approving hisses rose from the congregation of Dragon soldiers that stood before the examination bench.

Pazuzu smirked as Cynthia let out a silent moan of hateful horror. "How amusing.

"My warriors. As you know, Dumuzi, in his desperation to defeat me, threw at us a very interesting creature: a human. However, this particular specimen is indeed, not entirely mammalian. There is something… demonic within this youthful girl. And I believe this is a similar situation for all the other women who attacked me at the Western Fort. Observe."

Pazuzu opened a long, deep line down Cynthia's thigh with a flick of his claw. Agonizing and infectious, yet meticulously done, the pain was overpowering. She hissed, a rasping sigh coming from her throat, red fluid spraying from her mouth. The Ghost twitched as each successive neuron was severed by Pazuzu's own hand. Appreciative growls rose from the audience.

"Here we have a large deposit of adipose tissue: relics of a past that she can never return to. As a human, she was built weak, fundamentally worthless in combat. For these deposits in her thighs is a concession to breeding ability: if she is bearing young, she will need these fat deposits. Therefore, the very structure of the bones that allow for the storage of this tissue makes her a slower, more awkward fighter. Her pelvis is inefficiently wide, giving even the most trivial of tasks the impression of an attention-seeking gait rather than a warrior's sprint. Her sexual organs, as we have already outlined, are subject to a wide range of diseases and chronic breakdown. As if by some cruel joke of the Ancestors, these already troublesome organs take up an almost ridiculous portion of her abdomen. Overall, an evolutionary failure. Her human body is what hinders her. She is inherently unsuited for combat, built only for sex, pregnancy and nurture: the soft arts. Not war."

Cynthia trembled, the hair on her naked body bristling. More grateful snarls from the Dragons.

"Nevertheless – " he qualified, raising his hand. In one brutal but calculated move, he flayed open her scarred stomach, blood running uninterruptedly down his claw. She felt her inner abdominal muscles exposed to the cold air, and she sighed in agony again, blood escaping her ruined throat.

" – it is this… thing… that allows her to fight with such extraordinary speed. Here we can witness a significant improvement from that of a normal human. The unusual cluster of yellow nerves fused onto these already-present bundles around her insides enhances her already formidable response time. And this throbbing… heart, akin to a second cerebullum perhaps, renders this swift impulse and reaction potential to the point that even she may be unable to control, until she has utterly mastered all the properties of these foreign elements within her."

Cynthia struggled, unable to stop him from poring into the secrets of the Organization's work.

"Still, only one conclusion can be reached," he said. "No matter how laudable this design is, it is inevitably inferior. Why? Because here is the true irony of their pathetic little world." He flung his bloody hands outwards, gesturing towards her. "This new creature, unknown to us Dragons and secondary to our greatness only by a small degree, was not created for its own sake. These warriors were created to protect humanity – imperfect, imperfectible deformities of nature." He sneered, almost as if he felt sorry for the woman he had crucified. "The late Grand General manufactured a soldier who can be spiked thus and still function rationally, who can suffer broken bones and severed limbs and still battle on. I suspect they have even more abilities that the Descendants have yet to discover. Yet the whole reason they exist is to defend mammalians too weak to escape even rope, too weak to withstand pain without herbs and alcohol. These… mysterious women are the pinnacle of their species, yet they live to defend its lowest underclass."

Cynthia thrashed at the table, trying to escape again. Pazuzu's eye gleamed as he waved his audience away, and turned his full attention on her.

*

The light hurt.

Miria groaned, stirring weakly. She raised her arm, looking at it groggily. Adjusting to her surroundings, she closed and opened her eyes several times, taking in the cold touch of a rocky ground.

"You're awake." Miria turned to see Dumuzi's cross-legged form beside her. His face was sombre, his wings folded behind him, as he observed her, with eyes that bespoke of great loss.

"Dumuzi…" she moaned. "The others… what happened to them?"

"You are hurt," whispered the Crown Prince. He gestured towards her legs. "They are unresponsive. Pazuzu must have – "

"Where are the others?"

Dumuzi avoided her eyes. "We… were forced to separate from them."

She struggled to sit up. "Where are we?"

"Breathe, brave human. Let me explain." Dumuzi shuffled nearer, his hand moving to take hers. "You were knocked unconscious by Pazuzu. He… took you and threw you into a crevice he had created with his halberd." He gestured around the rocky cave. "You hurtled down towards the deep bed of this abyss. I dived in to catch you."

She shook her head in disbelief. "Are we…"

"I am sorry, Miria. We were defeated… because I was deceived by Pazuzu's treacherous ruse." He looked away. "Because this crevice was dug out from the very earth, there are many caverns within the bedrock which were parted when Pazuzu created it. I caught you, but you had fallen far too deep into the fissure for me to return. I flew into one of these caves so we could both rest. You have been asleep for half a day now."

Her eyes met his with a disbelief matching his distress. "Then where are the others?"

Dumuzi shuddered in despair. "I… do not know."

"Then we've got to – "

"Please, heal yourself first. Your legs… your entire body. I wish not to lose any more allies." He visibly slumped, shoulders heaving. "First my Royal Guard, and now my sister... not you too."

"Your sister? Inanna? Wait," said Miria. "Why – "

"My sister… " Dumuzi stared at her, his red eyes refusing to leave her face. "She gave her life so I could save you."

Miria did not know how to reply. She leaned back, slightly dazed. Had they been utterly routed? Had no one been able to topple Pazuzu? And how could Dumuzi and Inanna both have lost to him? "How could she have… been killed? I fell into this… place, not her – "

"The traitor… he gored my sister through her stomach. He… "

Miria's voice was suddenly more timid than she had hoped it to be. "Dumuzi?"

The Crown Prince let out a husky cry of grief, and he moved forward, his hands searching for her body. She did not resist, and encouraged, he pulled her close, his claws digging into her back. "I did not know what to do. I could only obey her. I… deserve no praise, nothing, for coming after you. She… told me she would return to me, but perhaps you would not. And for that, I left her at the hands of that insane sadist."

In wonderment, Miria hesitantly returned his powerful embrace, her slender hands reaching delicately for his large back. "Take it easy," she urged, her eyes softening in compassion. "I'll do as you say and heal myself here. But it's not over yet." She gave a small smile. "We won't break. Not while we're both still alive."

Silence passed between warrior and Crown Prince as they settled in each other's arms, quietly and comfortingly.

"Do… do you trust me…?" he whispered, clutching at her harder, almost too hard for her liking. As if reading her cue, he relented, cupping the back of her head with his hand. Their faces almost touching, he asked her again, "Ever since our duel… have you never entertained any faith in me?"

They stared at each other for several moments. She hesitated, unable to reply. But having looked into his crimson eyes on more than one occasion, she spoke with the fragility of a woman who had almost lost her way. "…I have been betrayed, many times in my life, to the point that I… can barely trust myself," she admitted, her head lowering. "You have been a good ally, despite our defeats. And you saved me; I thank you for that. But…"

"As I said, I can hardly be called noble for that." Dumuzi's hand loosened the string that held her hair up. It spilled back down, onto his outstretched arm. "You may have been betrayed in a life long past. I do not seek to learn of that past, for I might not be worthy of that knowledge. In your eyes, I must seem a failure of a Dragon. But do not look down on me."

His hands, having embraced her shoulders, moved down to her waist. "Please. Come into my heart. I will honour your trust."

She stared at him as a red tear leaked out his blood-red eye. He pulled her into a wild, desperate kiss, and she could only hold on as he pressed himself on her, his grip impossible to break.

_I've hidden myself within Hilda's heart, within the hearts of my friends, my warrior peers. But t__o hide myself within a man's heart…_

_It's something I've never done before_…

Dumuzi's mouth was at her neck, and he had spread her legs apart, wedging himself between her. His already frightening slits of eyes were alight with something more than just grief and self-reproach. Of course, she could feel those emotions swirling within his very being, but there was something… pulling him towards her.

_Why… why aren't I fighting back_?

His forked tongue trailed along her lips. She resisted weakly, but her brief struggle was snuffed as she felt him tearing at her black clothes, his ebony hands sending powerful sensations along her own pale skin. Overcome by his strength, his power, she turned her head, attempting to bite down hard on his aggressive mouth as he turned to kiss her again.

_I will fight you_!

But she didn't. He was too fast – no, she was too slow. Dumuzi's grunt became a soft hiss, and he pressed his mouth against hers. She moaned, as he lifted her, his hands supporting her spread thighs. Their tongues danced together joyfully, and even as her eyes closed in bliss, her heart surged in helpless confusion.

_Why_?

Naked and unable to move, Miria could only watch in shocked wonder as Dumuzi undid his sash. His guilty eyes gleamed with a primal desire; a desire not unique to the people of the Tribes. Without speaking, he roughly grabbed her, waiting for her to protest. When she did not, he took her in, sweeping up her trembling body.

_What is it like… to hide within this being's heart_?

*

His growls echoed through the cave, and her cries matched his.

Was she only convincing herself of his camaraderie, his bereavement, his sincerity, his love? She could not answer that uncomfortable question.

But for once, to find shelter in someone like the Crown Prince… it was something beyond words.

Even if he was overcome with craving himself, it did feel wonderful. She had to admit that.

Red met silver in a harrowing gratification; an excruciating comfort…

*

Dumuzi raised his horned head, his moans growing louder before they settled into silence.

She twitched in climax, wrapping herself warmly around him. Her face was pressed hard against the ground, tears of emotion staining her cheeks. He had taken her legs up around him, heedless. But their gazes met again, and for a moment, he paused, his burning eyes narrowing. Only their heavy panting could be heard within the cold cave. Miria felt herself lifted up again, this time into his arms. His claws dug further into her thighs. A slight trickle of blood began to make its way down her bare legs. Another kiss from his lipless mouth. He brought her down, laying her trembling body on him. She looked down at him, and he stared up at her, their bodies soaked in one another's sweat.

"Miria," he murmured.

His hands found her waist, her cheek. He continued to hold her firmly, and she did not know what to do.

"You are not alone," he finally said, wrapping her protectively in his arms.

_You shall never be alone again_.

*

_Eastern Isles. Inland City of Moonspring  
_

"We're in deep trouble," said Riful, as she tossed away the body of a dead Dragon. "Just over a month into this little alliance of ours since we left the Continent, and we already have Miria, Cynthia and and that handsome horned Dragon missing in action." Nearby, Dauf bashed the heads of two rebel Descendants together, their skulls promptly exploding in a haze of blood and crushed bone. "And this slaughter," she murmured to herself, looking at the corpses of humans and Dragons that outnumbered the spires of the city. Corpses hung from every rooftop, every window, at every doorstep. Three days had passed and the Dragons had not only repulsed Riful and Dauf from their cave and the abandoned city, but had also penetrated deep into the city called Moonspring, where Riful waited for her allies to bring much-needed help. To her utter rage, none had come yet.

"What am I their ally for?" snarled Riful, as her black ribbons sliced another lunging Descendant into several chunks of green scaled flesh. "I take control of these Eastern borders singlehandedly while they go off on their little vendetta against that beast of a plague-monster, and this is how they repay me? I swear, I'll force them to Awaken the moment this war is over."

"Is there anything I can do to help, darl?" asked Dauf, scratching his head and looking around. It seemed that this invasion force had spent itself; thirteen dead Dragons lay amidst several dozen more human soldiers' bodies.

Several moments passed before he received an answer. "Andromeda," said Riful. Her eyes narrowed. "From Miria's information, the city of Andromeda is the next stepping stone to the larger islands deeper into this nation. As we've wiped out his forces here, he won't risk another defeat in a city he doesn't need. Andromeda is the chokepoint of the Isles. Whatever has happened, I need the others to regroup and return to me." She looked at Dauf. "Let's get to Andromeda. I'll give them two more days, and if they do not come, we'll withdraw. I have no intention to fight alone."

Dauf nodded dumbly. "Whatever you say." He began to lumber his way out of the city. Riful looked up as she breathed in deeply.

Her body slowly re-absorbed its own Yoki, and her Awakened form shrunk to that of her usual childish body.

"I hope you're all fine," she muttered. "I don't want to be stuck on these Isles forever."

*

Ruins of the Western Fort

Raphaela groaned, struggling up. She grabbed her left arm – but there was no arm; only a stump attached to her shoulder. She forced herself up, but fell down again. Looking to her side, she coughed out grit and sand from her bloody lip. She could feel her legs moving stiffly, and her head, while throbbing painfully, had not been lopped off. Grudgingly acknowledging her good fortune at not having been burned to death, she allowed her racing heart to slow, and her breathing to subside. Gathering herself, she glanced at the unconscious body of Galatea. She moved to gather her up, but she paused. Looking around the charred surroundings, she noticed that despite the battle they had fought, there was nobody – dead or alive – in the immediate vicinity.

_So Clare and Cynthia are also missing. And what of those two Dragons_?

Her eye narrowed. _More importantly, where is Miria_?

There was no time to think about that now. God-Eye needed help.

With all the strength her remaining arm could muster, she hoisted Galatea up. "Consider this my debt repaid," she muttered, "when you spared my life at Darene."

*

Night had already penetrated the deep fissure within the earth.

Soon, her legs would heal completely. And it would be time to leave.

She had fallen asleep briefly in his arms, but Dumuzi had awoken her by releasing her soft body. She reached for him, unwilling to leave his warmth. Dumuzi stroked her bright hair, glancing at the forgotten Claymore that lay beside the Crescent Hounds.

"Once everything is over… I will make you mine."

"What are you going to do now, Dumuzi?" asked Miria, her silver eyes fixed on him. "Shouldn't we reunite with the others?"

His demonic countenance darkened. "I am going avenge Inanna's death."

"And how are you going to do that?" she murmured. "You don't even know where Pazuzu is. He may very well be at the cities of the Isles now. And which one? You must think of these things before making such important decisions."

Dumuzi smiled, unable to meet her reproachful eyes. "You are right. I have made enough mistakes to last me a lifetime already. But I do know where Pazuzu will attack next – the mainland city of Andromeda, a strategic centre for the human nations. It is there where I will kill him with my bare hands, in the name of Inanna's memory."

As he turned away, she rose and clasped his waist, pressing her cheek against his back. "At the very least, we must regroup with our comrades before attempting another offensive."

"Reinforcements will come," he replied. "The Royal Guard are not the only Dragons who remain loyal to me. Far from it, in fact."

He rose, re-attaching his sash. "Inanna was enough," he said bitterly. "From hereon, the only creature that shall suffer the pain of death shall be that traitor."

Despite herself, Miria could not help smiling to herself.

_You say many things, but I feel that you're still hiding much from me… boy._

_Well, whatever you say. Crown Prince_.


	7. Chapter 7: A Prince's Grief

**Chapter 6: A Prince's Grief**

_Mt. Sumeru, Royal Gardens. A hundred years ago _

Amidst five-foot shrubs and exquisite flowers stood Anu, the ancient and mighty Emperor of the Dragon Nations. A powerful humanoid titan, his head was his most peculiar feature: a Draconic, bearded face, with eyes of an eagle and horns of a stag. His skin was visibly scaled, although the robes of celestial black that covered his body hid much of his reptilian hide. He gazed pensively at the blooming orchard that lay beyond the elegant hedges, his mind dawdling to different places that offered a refuge from the raging War against the humans. "Daddy!" He turned at the cheerful voice of Inanna, who approached him with the enthusiasm of a child. In her hands was a bone-kite, one of the many contraptions Dragon younglings built to pass the lazy days away. The hollow bones were harvested from giant hawks that flew up to Mt. Sumeru to die, and a thick rope made from the sinews of common mammoths allowed the amusing little thing to be flown. "My daughter." The wizened Emperor forced a smile. "How is my princess passing her time today?" he asked, his voice like rolling thunder. "I made one all by myself," she replied eagerly, holding up the hollow machination. Her brown hair spilled over her shoulders, her young face alight with enthusiasm. Even as an adolescent, she had developed into a beautiful Dragoness, something he was immensely proud of, although he would never admit it. "Won't you come with me and fly it this afternoon?" she asked, holding it up to him. Anu stroked his venerable beard, unsure of how to reply. "No," he finally said, trying to keep his tone as mild as possible. "Unfortunately, I will be busy for the remainder of the day. I have… state matters to attend to."

Inanna's face fell. "But you promised to fly with me – "

"And that promise will have to wait," cut in the Emperor. "Perhaps you can play with Dumuzi. I was only out here in the Gardens for a rest. Very soon, I must return to my viziers. So…" he smiled regretfully at her, unable to say anything else.

Visibly slumping, Inanna turned away, her expression disappointed and rejected. She sidled away, her hands falling to her side, the bone-kite forgotten.

"You promised to play with me a year ago, but you haven't even come to see the kites I made," she mumbled, wiping away a tear.

Anu sighed and turned to make his way back to the Throneroom. His scaled feet glided across the garden grounds, his elderly hand brushing by the thorned bushes ever so slightly. He was surprised when he heard Dumuzi's sudden voice. "You worry that you will not be by her side when she dies. Perhaps you might regret that you were not by her side when she lived."

The Crown Prince was leaning on the wall of the palace, his arms folded. Dumuzi was several metres shorter than his father, but it did not stop him from talking like an equal – something Anu inwardly admired.

But for the sake of maintaining tradition, he could never praise him for that. He turned to look at his son, his wide, fierce orange eyes boring into red, sinister slits. "A profound thought," admitted the Emperor, drawing up his ebony robes. "Perhaps it is time for me to retire… and allow _you_ to assume the civil and military authority of Mt. Sumeru."

"Father, I did not want to imply that at all. But Inanna deserves better than the harshness you subjected _me _to."

Anu glided past Dumuzi, eyeing him severely. "Do you really think I desired that? For you to suffer so? It was the price necessary for a Prince – to learn the arts of war, scholarship, history, and the tradition of our Ancestors. One day, you shall be Emperor after I step down. I am old; my hibernation every Fimbulwinter grows longer by the year. Should the Tribes be thrown into upheaval while I am in slumber, you will need to show our people how much you have learned. Do not assume my immortality. There is always something that can stray amiss." Anu raised a scaled hand. "Entertain your sister. I have no time for her antics."

Dumuzi scowled, scratching his horned head in exasperation. "You know you do not mean that, Father. Why do you do this to yourself?"

Anu did not reply. His horned face was expressionless as he retreated into the Throneroom, and the door closed as Dumuzi heard the mutters of the viziers returning to conference.

*

Fuming, Dumuzi had spent the last hour wandering the Hall of Elders, searching for his beloved sister. He had turned a corner, when a Dragon taller than himself emerged from the shadows. Canine jowls dripped with plague-ridden venom, and bright eyes shone in front of four large, rotting wings.

"Send me, my Prince," hissed Pazuzu, lurching before him. "Send me to fight the humans."

"No, my friend," refused Dumuzi bitterly. "Father's negotiations are bound to fail, this I know. But I am not going to risk your life at the hands of the treacherous humans."

"Why?" hissed Pazuzu. "I have never thought of anything else but to fulfil my calling as one who aspires to attain the rank of Enchanter General. I can crush them now, if only you would cease your foolish concern for me."

"No," said Dumuzi adamantly. "I tire of the opportunism of the Imperial Court. And your own ambitions must be kept in check, for your own safety. The viziers will not tolerate a progressive… no, revolutionary… thinker like you. Even I find your ideas… frightening. A world in which there is no rule of monarchy; but of the common people? A risk-filled endeavour at best, an insane delusion at worst. Currently there is no worse time to make your bid for the position for the Enchanter General. So for now, please lie low, my friend."

"How naïve, my Prince," replied Pazuzu bitterly. "One day, you will realize the folly of a heart that closes itself to… anarchy."

"Anarchy?"

Pazuzu's eyes gleamed. "Yes. Ah. By the way – " he leaned in, his voice falling dramatically in volume. "There is someone from the frontlines who wishes to see you."

Dumuzi scowled. "Who?"

The canine-headed Descendant's eyes glowed. "_Him_."

Dumuzi's eyes widened. _No. No, it cannot be. At this time_?

"Carmelo…?"

*

Emissary's Hall

The guest's chamber was wide, elephantine, dwarfing the human figure who stood within, awaiting Dumuzi to receive him. His gold eyes contrasted sharply with his raven hair, and his black and purple cape and garments were not out of place with the decadent tapestries that draped down the marble walls of the room.

Dumuzi opened the colossal door and shut it behind him. He smiled. "It is rare for you to leave the frontlines, Grand General," he acknowledged, "especially on a secret notice."

"This is the last time I will ever come to Mt. Sumeru," replied the human supreme commander. "The war between your father and I can only last so long."

"I would take offence at your presumed equality with my father," said Dumuzi. "You have fought me many times; you have not fought him. I assure you that neither you or I can hold a candle to his power."

"I have come to try and convince you one last time to surrender to the human Army," insisted Lord Carmelo, laying aside his Sword of Heaven on the carpeted floor. "I will say only this much: my compatriots have succeeded in creating a new weapon; a weapon that can match even your power. Perhaps, they will surpass even me."

"Weapon? Some treacherous contraption designed by your mad scientists?"

"In a way. I only wish to warn you, that these new weapons are… sentient. They are not what you preconceive them to be."

"A mere warning cannot stop me. I know not your plans, but what creature could possibly surpass even a Dragon's strength?"

Carmelo's eyes twinkled. "That, my friend, is for you to find out very shortly." He moved away, his hands tucked behind him and his expression thoughtful. "For years we have fought, yet I know your heart is unwilling to end the chaos with brutality. What can you do with mere compassion? Dumuzi, you do not have what it would take to unite our two nations together."

"Carmelo!" reproached the Crown Prince. "All beings can grow without the forced utopia you propose. It is that change that can unite human and Dragon together in a world greater than that of our forefathers."

"It is that misguided vision which invites war," said Carmelo, his golden eyes narrowing. "My way is the true way; the only way."

Dumuzi shook his head. "Your so-called way will only prolong this suffering and bloodshed, and pile more corpses on a mountain you and my father have created."

The other shook his head. "It seems I am unable to convince you, to sway your heart. I am sorry. You are my archnemesis, my most respected adversary. It will not feel good killing you the next time I see you." Carmelo sombrely took up his sheathed sword and turned his back. "Farewell, Crown Prince. May your duty be never more than you can bear."

"Goodbye, Grand General," said Dumuzi softly, as the door closed.

They would never meet again.

*******

_My name is Cynthia. I am a former warrior of the Organization. I fought to defeat Yoma, Awakened Beings, and the Organization itself. And now, I followed my friends and some unlikely allies to the Isles, to defend against the invading Tribes._

_I also think I'm going to die alone, and it terrifies me._

_I've been crying for the past hour. I think it's been an hour, at least. I can't check. I've been nailed to a plank of wood for more than a day, with no food. No water. My own blood has dried up on my hands, my feet, and thighs. I've been healing myself, keeping as calm as possible. So far, I closed up the lacerations Pazuzu inflicted on my stomach. It was agony, to have my intestines and muscles exposed in the cold air. But after an entire day, I could finally stitch my flesh together with my Yoki. The scars are horrible, crude – long lines of Pazuzu's claws._

_I can still feel that monster's infectious finger inside me. He forced my legs apart in a way I had ever only let Galatea do. I feel filthy, disgusting, not worthy of even standing before my beloved anymore._

_I'm scared._

_I don't want to die. I want to escape from this place. I want to take Galatea with me and flee these Isles. I want to go home, back to Darene. Where Galatea made love to me. Where she kept me warm._

_But the only warmth I can feel is my hot blood seeping through the wood. My thigh is still refusing to close up. I try not to look down. I don't want to see the throbbing muscle, the severed vessels and nerves. It's too disgusting. Why can't it close up? Has he infected me with his plague? Or have I just lost control? _

_I know I've killed many in my life. But do I really deserve this? I don't know._

_A boom of the door. Light blinds me, and I close my eyes. It must be him again. Has he come to rape me again? Or is he going to humiliate me in front of his friends? Please, don't cut me up. It'll hurt, even more now that I've been trying to heal myself._

_I flinch as my torturer speaks._

_But the words are not my torturer's._

"_My kitten."_

My kitten?

_I open my eyes, squinting, and I see two figures. One, with short hair. The other, with a scar on her eye. _

_Clare… Raphaela?_

_I sob, tears leaking from my eyes, and blood from my mouth. Why do you have to see me like this? Look away, look away. Please…_

_But I don't need to hide. The woman I love is with them. She is the one who spoke to me. She steps in front of me, hiding me from their sight. My heart leaps in disbelieving joy. "…" I try to speak, but all I do is spit a red haze of blood. I swear in impulse, but I get the same results._

_I can't reply to her, and I hate it._

"_Cynthia. I have come to save you." I can feel her Yoki flaring in rage and grief and sorrow and hatred… so many emotions have overcome her. I open my mouth to urge her to control herself lest she Awaken, but I just taste my blood again. "Your… your thigh… " she whispers. "Why… why are your muscles exposed? Why is your flesh cut open? Tell me!"_

_Despite myself, I sigh in relief. She didn't have to lay hands on my flayed stomach. _

_She runs her finger over my body, stopping at my throat. I can feel her Yoki surging in horror. Please, my love, don't lose control. Please, I don't want to lose you. She seems to listen; I see her wide, white eyes closing, and she concentrates, her Yoki flowing into me, helping me close up my exposed throat. It's agony – it takes several minutes, and I can't do anything except stare at her wet, blind eyes as she pours all her energy into me, slowly but effectively reforming my torn flesh. "You… cannot speak, can you?" she finally whispers._

_I cannot answer her, and that is enough. _

_I will never be able to talk again._

_She is blind, and now I'm mute. What a curious pair we make._

_I hiss in pain as she pulls the rusting, giant nail out of my hand. Blood spurts anew. She realizes. Drawing close, she kisses me, her lips pressing to mine. I stare at her tormented face as her arm reaches for the other nail. I close my eyes, obeying her, and I bite down hard on her lip as she pulls the metal from the wood and my flesh. I open my eyes, eternally grateful. She draws away, heaving in sorrow. She couldn't care less about her bleeding lip. Her eyes are wet, and she takes me in her arms after she removes the nails that were hammered into my feet. She lifts me from my prison, my plank of hated wood. "Cynthia," she whispers, crying. "My lovely kitten."_

_I close my eyes. I want to return her embrace, but my arms won't move. I'm too weak. I can barely stay awake._

_But with her holding me, I'm not so scared of death anymore._

"_No more," whispers my beloved. "I thought I was doing something good by following Riful and Miria. No. No more." She hoists me up in a bridal fashion. Her warm hands are salvation for my naked body. She turns and speaks to Clare and Raphaela, who remain in stunned silence. "Enough. I didn't come all the way to Andromeda to see Cynthia like this. As if Alicia wasn't enough. I took a child's life that day. And today, if we hadn't arrived here in time… No. Not Cynthia. I'm leaving them to their damned war. I didn't sign up for this. I didn't sign up for Cynthia to be… treated like this." She kisses my forehead. "I'm not participating in this insanity anymore. I'm leaving. I'm leaving the Isles, and I'm taking Cynthia with me." _

_I don't really know what's going on. All I understand is Galatea's hands._

_Her warmth._

_Her voice._

_Her lips. _

_I bury my face in her chest._

_I am so happy. _

_I'm not scared anymore._

*

Upon the plateau overlooking the central city of Andromeda, Dumuzi clenched his teeth. "They've come?" he confirmed quietly. "Then let us push a final attack. Crush Pazuzu and his cronies beneath us!"


	8. Chapter 8: Battle of Andromeda

**Chapter 8: The Battle of Andromeda**

After her gruelling rescue by Raphaela in the smoldering ruins of the Western Fort, Galatea had forced herself to journey deeper inland, to where Riful had been awaiting her. The most crucial battle yet of the war was about to begin. Never had the Dragons marched so deep, beyond the Western Fort. Never before were cities like Andromeda under threat. In the midst of an invasion of the city, Galatea, Raphaela and Clare had broken into the occupied church to rescue all the humans and whisk them away from the battlefield.

To Galatea's horror, Cynthia had been among them. Only then did they truly understand the sinister power of their foe.

Having draped her cloak around Cynthia, Galatea hurried beyond the broken door. She glanced at Clare. "The Dragons are already headed this way. If you hurry, you might still be able to surprise them as they arrive." She hugged Cynthia closer and glanced around. Already the city was witness to clumsy, lumbering shapes from the distance. Which faction they belonged to, she did not know.

Nor did she care.

"Raphaela. You saved me from the fires of the Western Fort. For that I thank you. But it seems that I can't avoid the exquisite pain of seeing blood and madness despite my blindness, wherever I go. You saved me, only to take me to this… hellhole. I am now heading back in that direction, from whence we arrived by ship. I'm going to find a galleon, a boat, anything – to take her home."

Clare shook her head in respectful disapproval, but Raphaela was more forthright. "You're insane."

"What they did to her was insane."

"You will let this insanity continue, then? By fleeing?"

"I do not want Cynthia in this war. It's as simple as that."

"You can't leave. Not now. Not when you were the one who asked me to come," insisted Raphaela, her face suppressing quiet outrage.

"I'm blind, but even I can see that she's in no shape to fight," said Galatea coldly. "And quite frankly, neither am I."

"Your withdrawal may cost us this battle."

"This whole war is already lost, as far as I'm concerned." Galatea kissed her barely conscious lover on the forehead. Cynthia stirred in response, and her warm silver eyes opened. She gazed at Galatea hopefully, and from that one gaze, Galatea's heart could not be swayed. They still shone with purity, with gentle love and compassion. With an unfailing trust that Galatea found almost unbelievable.

Truly, Cynthia was extraordinary, a daughter of God.

A giant form landed amidst crushed rubble. It raised itself, roaring its legions to battle. "It's Pazuzu. The dog-man who almost managed to wipe out our entire force," confirmed Raphaela grimly. "If you're not going to fight, we will be one less effective. And you yourself have admitted that one less is a hundredfold less."

"Shut up," said Galatea flatly. "Farewell, Clare. Farewell, former Number Five. For now, our time together ends. I pray that you'll return home to us unscathed, once the madness you're participating in ends."

"Be careful, Galatea," said Clare. She drew her sword. "We'll do our best to survive, so we can see each other again."

"I look forward to that day," agreed Galatea.

"You've doomed us. You've taken away two of our warriors, including yourself," snapped Raphaela.

Galatea turned away and did not turn back. "Let's go, Cynthia," she whispered. "It is time to leave." And ignoring Raphaela's outraged glare, she began to walk out towards the city gates, calmly shielding Cynthia's Yoki from the lumbering Dragons that had begun to trample through the dusty streets.

The world collapsed around the two women even as they desperately tried to salvage their own.

*

Dumuzi gazed hatefully at Pazuzu. Standing amidst a ruined building, the canine demon caught sight of him and sneered. "I shall avenge my sister no matter what the cost. Forward! Leave none of these traitors of the Royal House standing!" He raised his Crescent Hounds, and the Dragons on the ground roared, advancing. This time, they were not wurms – they were giant rakshashas, with the heads of ravenous tigers and bodies of powerfully built men. Around the same height as Dumuzi, they were dwarfed by Pazuzu and his minions. But they exuded a Draconic aura that enveloped not only the entire city, but the entire land.

"More royal pawns marching to their own slaughter." But having said that, Pazuzu still expunged Pestilence from his body, holding it upwards in a defensive guard. For these new Dragons were not mere Royal Guard; they were the Tiger Guard, the Emperor's personal bodyguard. But of course. _Father's pet_. Pazuzu spat in disgust as he raised his hand, and the rebel Dragons let out a defiant bellow against the Crown Prince.

The spires of the city came toppling down as the Tiger Guards charged into the throng of rebels, tearing through them with righteous fury. They wielded powerful longswords, about the height of two human men. Pazuzu's Descendants counterattacked, their jowls belching fire, but they set not their enemies alight, but the city itself. An inferno spread, immolating the buildings within the city walls in a preternatural flame. The screams of humans who had not evacuated were almost as loud as the howls of the Dragons who continued to tussle back and forth. "So those cowards are using fire to confuse my warriors?" snorted Dumuzi. "I should have seen this coming." His grip on the Crescent Hounds loosened slightly, however. It would confuse the Tiger Guard, but the Tiger Guard were more than just soldiers. They had been hand-picked by the Emperor himself, the elite bodyguards who were utterly reliable, in any circumstance. Their discipline was otherworldly; something Pazuzu's motley retinue could never even fathom nor understand. And it showed. Unbowed by the fire attack, the Tiger Guards broke through the throng of Dragons, punching into the heart of the mob which had attempted to occupy the city. Pushed back, the slobbering brutes were impaled on the cold ends of longswords forged by Descendant blacksmiths and blessed by elder shamans.

Pazuzu grimaced, and leaped upwards, preparing to join the fray. He caught sight of Dumuzi, and he changed course, his bony wings flapping wildly. With blinding speed, he flew up towards the plateau. "Stay here, Miria. I will defeat him myself." Dumuzi moved to intecept him, his thick legs tightening.

She stopped him. "Wait. If you are going to fight, let me fight with you."

"I will kill him with my bare hands."

Her eyes glimmered as the remaining dozen Dragons toppled before the unstoppable Tiger Guards. "You've lost enough already. Don't you want to end this quickly?"

Dumuzi's head lowered. "I…"

Miria sighed and put her arms around his waist. "I am not your enemy. Nor am I your ally. What am I?"

Dumuzi closed his eyes. "No, you are my ally. My trusted and beloved ally. Come with me, sweet warrior lady." She released him, and he leaped away from the plateau, towards the ascending Pazuzu. The wings of the sworn enemies flapped almost in tandem, and they roared their hatred – Dumuzi's a demonic howl, and Pazuzu's a hellish canine screech. Miria drew her sword and hurtled down towards the city towers. Together, the Crown Prince and former Number-Six brought their swords against Pazuzu's halberd, metal and bone colliding with jaw-jarring force. Despite their combined strength, Pazuzu's wings flapped harder, and he did not budge. He sneered, daring them to push further.

"Back for another beating?" he crowed. "First Inanna. Now I'll crush you – "

Five metal rods several metres long suddenly burst from below, smashing into Pazuzu's rib. The cracking of bones was generously audible. The Enchanter General coughed blood and plummeted to the ground, slamming painfully into the city rubble and amongst corpses of his own followers.

Dumuzi quickly caught Miria in his arms. Wings flapping, he looked down. Below them, a purple titan had lowered his fist. He was at the city gates, his full height easily taller than that of the ramparts.

"Heh," snickered Dauf.

"About time you two arrived," Riful said, her ribbons splitting the last rebel Dragon in two. "I was beginning to think you'd abandoned us." She glanced up. "It's time to pay our little doggy back for his bad behaviour."

Miria smiled.

"Oh, yes," growled Dauf in unabashed excitement.

*

Galatea calmly made her way over the mountains that once acted as Andromeda's natural barrier, her Yoki undetectable to the lumbering Descendants that were filing into the megalopolis. The thundering grew quieter as she retreated from the raging bloodshed of the nearby city.

For now, no one should be able to find them.

She looked down at Cynthia. She couldn't see the younger woman's face, but she hoped it was one of peace. "Hey," she called softly.

Cynthia smiled, her tear-stained face blushing slightly.

Galatea could sense her Yoki flaring in eagerness. _What an amazing woman. Even after such torment, she finds the strength to express… such affection for someone who's failed her miserably. Someone who… barely deserves her_.

Cynthia opened her mouth. She let out a soft, hesitant gargle from the back of her destroyed throat.

"Everything's fine now," reassured Galatea. Her heart melted completely, and unable to maintain her sarcastic, confident façade, she poured her soul into her comfort – something she had been unable to succeed completely in even as a nun. "I'm going to take care of you. I will take you home, and we'll make a new start, together."

Cynthia raised her finger and stroked Galatea's lips gently, her eyes shining.

The nun shook her head at the loving contact. "I don't care if you can't speak. I don't care if I can't see you. It will be difficult, but we can work something out. I will not give up on you. I would give up on my own God before I abandon you."

Cynthia withdrew her finger bashfully.

"I will stay by your side for the rest of my life. We will live out our days together, in a cottage near my church in Rabona. Do you remember my church…? It was there where we first met." She closed her eyes at what might be the fondest memory of her violent life. "And Beth is there, waiting for me. I have been caring for her, like my daughter."

Cynthia blinked in surprise, but Galatea was prepared. "Would you object, darling? To have her under our roof? Give me one squeeze for yes, two squeezes for no."

Cynthia immediately pressed her hand twice.

"It'll be just the three of us, together, as a family. No wandering; no war. Just a normal life; at last. Does that sound good?"

A rasping sigh, which would have once been a squeal of ecstasy, escaped the younger woman. She clutched onto Galatea tighter, demanding her guardian to never release her.

The earth quaked, distant roars of battle drowning out the chirping of larks. Galatea paid them no heed. "Then let us go," she said. "Let's find a ship willing to take us home, my beloved."


	9. Chapter 9: A Raft Made Out of Tears

**Chapter 9: A Raft Made out of a Woman's Tears**

Carrying Cynthia on her back, Galatea leaped past the hilly ravine and down the mountains. For almost an hour she had run, ignoring the growling in her stomach and the deadening stiffness of her arms and shoulders. It was true that Cynthia was the reason why she felt so out of shape – but she would never admit it to herself, let alone tell her. She felt the younger woman's Yoki flaring with guilt every so often, and she suppressed the urge to chide her for being so silly.

She was approaching the Western borders – she could smell the ruins of the Western Fort a while away, and the rumbling of horses was growing louder. _Humans? Here in the Western Fort? Impossible_.

It had been reduced to nothingness at Pazuzu's hand only several days ago. Why were there still human soldiers here?

A dozen, two dozen… no. Hundreds. Perhaps a thousand Knights on horseback, at least. Similar to the ones they fought in the last war…

Galatea readied herself, but Cynthia did not seem to be too worried at all. In fact, she was tapping her arm excitedly. "Huh?"

Was it someone they knew?

"Well, well," came a familiar voice. "Look who we have here. It's good to see you again, Sister."

Galatea cocked her head. "That voice…" she paused as armoured greaves stopped before her. "It cannot be. Why are you here, Cid?"

"It's nice to see you again too," snapped the lightly armoured man, twirling his rapier in his hands. "And greetings to you too, Claymore," he said to Cynthia, his eyebrow raising and his lip curling. Only the cloak kept the younger woman's body from being completely exposed. "A messenger was sent to all the major cities of Man to summon all available soldiers to arms – including the Continent, would you believe that? We're not even supposed to exist. On paper, at least. The world's definitely gone crazy if we get called on to help."

"That's not being fair," came Galk's voice. He rode astride a giant warhorse, clad in silver armour from head to toe. Only his head was exposed to the open air. "We came here by a common vote. It is only right that we leave the Continent, and sail to these ancient lands."

"Galk," cried Galatea. "You too? What on earth's happening – "

Cid laughed. "Oh, that's right. You don't know yet, do you?" He gestured outwards to the silver sentinel. "Meet the new Grand General of the Army – His Eminence, Galk."

Galatea and Cynthia both blanched.

_What_?

Cynthia blinked in surprise, looking quizzically at Galk. Galatea was less polite. "Rubbish," she said at once.

"No kidding," assured Cid. "He was elected, though Father Vincent had quite a hand in it. Quite a considerable promotion, isn't it? From the captain of a city that shouldn't exist to the Grand General of the nation? These are crazy times, crazy times."

"How… "

"We called a truce," explained Galk. "Between the Rabona elite guard and the Army. During your absence, there were many skirmishes between the remnants of the Army and Father Vincent's city riders, with increasing casualties on the side of the national Army. Not surprising: all their Marshals were dead, along with Carmelo. I think they made the right choice – at this point in time, even Father Vincent has more influence on the Continent than they do. You could say they pretty much had no choice if they were going to buy Father Vincent's silence on the… scandal of the Organization. We've had quite a civil war already, after all."

"But how could Father Vincent have inaugurated you? He doesn't have any of that authority."

"With the Army leaderless and still incapable of electing a Grand General, emergency measures were implemented. All the human leaders – and for the first time, those who lived on the Continent that was meant to never have existed – were summoned to elect this new leader to reinforce the Isles. And with his considerable influence within the Rabonic Church, Father Vincent…" he sighed, "…nominated me. I protested initially, vouching for other talents, but the city regents who had contributed their greatest warriors in previous wars complained that a certain former Number Six had slain them all at the Battle of Darene Plains."

_Miria_.

"Don't be modest," cried Cid, slapping Galk's warhorse, eliciting a disgruntled snort from the massive armoured beast. "I've already told all my sweethearts at the inn that I'm the new Eastern Marshal. I did it the day I received word from Vincent. You should have done the same!"

"I'm not a lowlife like you," muttered Galk.

Galatea stared at Galk, still unable to believe Cid. "You… you? The Grand General of the human Army? And you, Cid, the new Eastern Gate Marshal?"

"Has the world gone mad?"

*

On his steed, the new Grand General rode ahead, unsheathing his longsword. "I didn't come all the way here for sightseeing," he muttered. "I can't compare to Carmelo when it comes to fighting – I can hardly survive against Awakened Beings like Agatha. But we've got no one else, and I'm going to do my job."

Galatea shook her head in astonishment. " You can't possibly expect to – "

"Win? Well, I guess not, Sister," he agreed, shaking his head. "But we couldn't just stand aside and do nothing. Besides, I interrogated from our distinguished prisoners, Baudelio and Rimuto, all the information I needed about the Isles and the War. Why do you think we made it here with relatively little hassle?" He waved at the Knights who followed behind, and they spread out, fanning across the plateau. "Now, come with us, Sister. We must support Miria and the others."

"You're joking," snapped Galatea. "I just _left_ the battlefield. And don't think it's any normal battle. Miria has allied not only with two surviving Awakened Ones from the last war, but one of the Dragons themselves."

Galk looked shocked, but he quickly regained himself. "Strange alliances," he commented, his expression admitting his thoughts. "But I suppose if that's what it takes…" He lowered his head. "I do trust Miria. We misjudged Clare when we first met. I will not make that same mistake again. For now, I will continue to trust in Miria's judgment."

"You got no excuse," insisted Cid. "Sorry, guys. But you got to come with us. We have to help them."

Cynthia's face fell.

Just when it seemed to be all over…

"No," cried Galatea.

Galk put it most straightforwardly. "On the authority of the Army alliance, we order you to help us retake the Isles."

"I cannot turn my back on her," whispered Galatea. "I promised her I would take her home."

Cid grabbed her shoulder. "You can't leave now! Did you forget? You were the ones who left us behind! Now we're here, we all can win, together!"

Cynthia closed her eyes in resignation. She nodded silently at her beloved.

"No, this is not what I wanted to happen to you," protested Galatea. "I made a promise, and I'm going to keep it."

Cynthia gave a small smile, prepared for whatever fortune that was to befall her. She looked at Galk, nodding understandingly. Galk's stern face faltered, and a slight guilt passed his eyes.

"No more will Cynthia cry in pain," said Galatea plainly, looking at Cid. "We're going to set sail, perhaps today, perhaps tomorrow. But we're going back to the Continent. And you can try to stop us, but I'll resist."

A tense silence made itself felt between the new Army leaders and the former warriors. It was uncomfortable, cold and broken only by Galk.

He sighed, rubbing his tired forehead with his gauntleted fist. "I cannot deny I've grown soft since I became friends with Clare," he muttered. "I don't even know why I left my beautiful city to be a stinkin' Grand General. Hyah!" He spurred his warhorse on and galloped past the two women, refusing to look at them.

Cid glanced at his retreating form uncomfortably, then shrugged. "Well, he'll get over it," he admitted. "I guess we'll just tell Miria we're your substitutes."

"Please do."

"Take care," he added, his face softening as Cynthia smiled gratefully. "We'll see you again, soon. We'll party hard… once this War is over." And with that, he called out to the Knights, who galloped after Galk. The dust kicked up by horses' hooves obscured the division of reinforcements, and Galatea raised her arms to shield Cynthia's eyes from the flying shards of sand and gravel.

She turned away. "Come now."

Cynthia guiltily tugged at her arm.

Galatea smiled. "The choice is yours."

Cynthia nodded._ If that's the case_…

She rested her head against the nun's shoulder, pressing herself close, despite her sheepish eyes.

Her decision was clear.

"You won't regret this. I promise," affirmed Galatea. They were an echo of Cynthia's words to her when they first began their journey together. When the mute woman heard that loving oath, she enveloped her beloved in a full, warm embrace.

It was time to go home.


	10. Chapter 10: The Battle of the Isles

**Chapter 10: Battle of the Isles **

_The sundered city of Andromeda. Sunset_

They hit the floor, wetly exploding like sacks of slaughtered pigs.

Like the humans she feasted on back home.

Riful withdrew her ribbons from the corpse of a dead Dragon. She glanced coldly at Pazuzu, who had lurched up, blood pouring from his mouth. He clutched at his side, throwing away the five rods that Dauf had shot him with. They did more damage than expected – pushing deep into his upper body and crushing what must have been his internal organs.

Good. "Welcome to your graveyard, doggie," she whispered, flat bands of black shooting towards him. Pazuzu swung his halberd, cutting four of them neatly in half. Another four sliced at his arms, inflicting sharp cuts that proceeded to bleed profusely. He roared in rage as Dauf shot ten metal poles at him. He lashed out with a wild fist, sending them spiraling away.

He was still a formidable foe. Clare and Raphaela dashed around him, waiting patiently for a chance to strike at the wounded Dragon. He glared in silence at the warriors who surrounded him. "Well, it seems you never learn anything new except bringing yet more allies to have me destroy," he smirked. "Dumuzi. Is that all your strategy consists of?"

Dumuzi raised his swords high, not replying. "Miria," he whispered, and she dashed along the ground with him, closing the distance between them and the Enchanter General.

"You wish to lose another of your beloved? Come! I'll send you both to an early grave!" He swung Pestilence, and Dumuzi intercepted it, pressing hard with his scimitars as Miria swung upwards, her Claymore aiming for his face. It grazed him, drawing blood, but he flung Dumuzi off in time to slap her out of the way. He turned to Riful. "Now, let's finish this. I'll kill you all, and this will be the end of any resistance to my triumph."

The neighing of a thousand horses interrupted his oratory. Looking over his shoulder, Riful sneered towards the mountains. "Well, well. If it isn't – "

The plateau pass was flooded with platinum. The rumbling grew louder, and voices of human men rose.

Pazuzu snarled. "More vermin."

The Knights had arrived, resplendent in the armour of the Isles. Led by Galk and Cid, they charged towards the city gates, roaring. Miria's eyes widened, and Clare and Raphaela looked no less surprised. Galk smiled. "You didn't expect to see us again, did you?" he shouted, as they neared each other. "Looks like your final farewell was for nothing."

"Why – why are you leading – "

"Does that really matter now?" cried Cid, astride his own warhorse. "Let's wipe them out!"

"Only kill the dog-headed Dragon!" cried Miria, as the Knights aimed their lances indiscriminately at Riful, Dauf, and Dumuzi. "Don't hurt the others!"

"Dicks," snorted Dauf.

Galk nodded, quickly taking control. "Knights! Encircle!" he roared, and the Army obeyed, their horses' trots accelerating into a gallop. They trapped Pazuzu within a circle of metal, the thundering of hooves deafening. "Attack now!" he urged Miria. Nodding at Riful, she leaped up –

"You think that's going to stop me?!" growled Pazuzu, his voice rising in outrage. His hand swept down and smashed into a crowd of charging Knights, flinging them and their steeds into the air. The formation was scattered as the men struggled to regroup. But as Pazuzu opened himself up to counterattack, Riful, Miria, Dauf and Dumuzi suddenly lunged. Miria stood on one of Riful's shooting ribbons, and as it pierced into Pazuzu's arm, she somersaulted and landed, stabbing her sword into the back his head. The piercing of bone and brain was audible. Staggering, he was not prepared for Raphaela and Clare's simultaneous attacks. Raphaela's sword carved a gruesome cut across his jowls, flaying open the side of his mouth, and Clare's Windcutter eviscerated his exposed face. "Damn – damn you," hissed the General. He swiped again, only to be caught by Dumuzi's scimitars. With one smooth stroke, the Crown Prince sliced off the end of his hand. Pazuzu reeled, his body weakened by every blow the coalition inflicted on him.

"Looks like he's nearing the end of his tether," observed Riful quietly. "Darling?"

"My turn," grinned Dauf. "Looks like he bit off more than he can chew, my love. Let me give him another mouthful." He lunged, raising a powerful fist. Pazuzu saw him and lurched against him. The two giants collided, and Dauf quickly grabbed hold of his throat. Roaring, the Awakened Being clenched his hand and punched the Dragon in the face. Pazuzu roared in hateful frustration. Dauf laughed and struck him again, his wild hook catching him in the jaw. A fang flew out of Pazuzu's mouth. A third time, and the Awakened Being's knuckles found softer bone and tissue. Pazuzu's skull cracked, and he fell, his remaining eye dimming. "And this is payback for last time's defeat," roared Dauf. In a maneouver that did not suit even him, he aimed his five fingers at Pazuzu's head and shot out five giant metal rods.

Point-blank.

Pazuzu's frontal face wordlessly exploded in a shambles of bone and teeth, splattering Dauf's face with Descendant blood. His titanic body slammed into the ruins of the city even as Dauf reloaded himself with five new poles. Clare had to roll away from the shower of blood that pattered down like torrential rain. The earth shook as the Enchanter General sighed, and stilled, his eyes closing.

Riful snorted, withdrawing her ribbons. "So crude. Still, that was easier than I expected."

Was he… dead?

One could not tell. The face was too messy.

A relieved silence settled on the allies. The Knights allowed themselves to breathe. This time, only a dozen or so casualties. A welcome change from the usual hundred or thousand body count.

Dumuzi gathered himself, setting aside his Crescent Hounds, and looked at the silent body. "You left me no choice, Pazuzu." Dumuzi circled him slowly, almost reluctantly. His slitted eyes shone. "My friend. My brother-in-arms." He lowered himself on one knee. "Why did you have to lose yourself?" he asked, his voice husky. "Your vision was grand, admirable. But you were ahead of your time, and you were cruel, slanderous, murderous. And now, your crimes have become irredeemable." He raised his eyes to the heavens.

For now, the threat to the Isles had been halted.

"And you are avenged now. Were you watching… my dearest Inanna?"

*

Miria was about to slump in exhausted respite when Raphaela's cold voice rang out. "Galatea has left. She has taken Cynthia with her."

Miria raised her head. "I noticed they weren't here. So they've left this area altogether? That's… unlike Galatea."

"Cynthia was captured and tortured by the enemy. It seemed to touch a nerve with Galatea. By now they might even be past the Western borders."

"Tortured?" Miria's eyes softened.

"We were too late."

"… I see." Miria turned away.

_I don't blame you, God-Eye_.

"Well, I can't go after them now. I had… my own issues while we were scattered and Cynthia was captured." She gave a sad smile. "I suppose we'll just have to tell them the good news of our victory when we return home."

*

Passing the fluttering banners of the Knights, Galk reined in his horse and approached Miria. "How are you?" he said, smiling. "I'm sorry to… surprise you."

Miria reciprocated with what could be nothing less than a fond grin. "How… how did you manage to do this? And what of the trouble on the Continent?"

"Firstly, I want to assure you that you've nothing left to fear from the Continent, nor from the Isles, for that matter. The Organization's long been crippled, and I've been elected as the Grand General. Naturally, the remnants of the Army are therefore no longer a threat to you."

She nodded. "I must admit, this is a surprise. You have become… the Grand General, after all. I… I never thought I would see the day when the Continent and the Isles completely united."

"It's all thanks to Father Vincent. With his help, you don't need to worry about home anymore, and focus your efforts entirely on the Descendants. And," he winked reluctantly, "hopefully you'll no longer see the Grand General as a threat to you, either."

Miria let out a genuine laugh, the first in many months. "Of course, Galk. Speaking of Dragons…" she gestured towards Dumuzi. "This is their Crown Prince."

Galk blanched, as the horned, bat-winged creature rrose at Miria's voice, and walked towards them. "I… didn't expect them to look like this…?" muttered the Grand General.

"I overheard Miria. So you are the new overlord of the human lands?" asked the thirteen-foot Crown Prince quietly. "Good health to you. I am Dumuzi, heir to the throne of the Royal House of Anu. I knew the previous Grand General and respected him deeply. Miria was the one who slew him, was it not? It seems the human realms nurture far more formidable wars than my father could ever have imagined."

Galk could only nod. "And why have you… allied with these… beings?" he asked, nodding his head at Riful and Dauf. "Weren't you and I… trying to destroy creatures like them?"

"Hear, hear," called Cid unhelpfully.

"Well, they _are_ the last of their kind," sighed Miria. "And besides, it's… a long story. What say I explain to you while we march?"

"March where?"

"The Dragon Nations, noble human," said Dumuzi wearily. He looked to the East. "We shall go," he continued, "and eradicate the Imperial Court of Pazuzu's lackeys. We shall free my nation, and awaken my father from a slumber that has persisted for far too long."

"Good idea," said Miria slowly, "but you will need to lead the way to the traitors, because beginning from now, we're on truly foreign soil."

"Yes, my brave tigress," answered Dumuzi. "Please, stand beside me as a fellow commander. Together, we are an elemental force that no enemy can withstand."

She turned to Galk, who remained silent. "We're going to attack Mt. Sumeru itself," she declared quietly. "The Capital of the Dragons."

He hesitated momentarily. "Hold on a second. Who is Pazuzu? The creature we just took down? I don't even know what's going on between these… Dragons. And besides, you're truly expecting us to penetrate straight into the heart of their realm? The Army couldn't beat seven of you Ghosts with seven thousand troops. How do you expect us to defeat Dragons with just a thousand men – "

"It was different then," interrupted Miria. "As I said, I will explain everything to you, although it won't be brief."

Galk fell silent.

"You have my father's blessing," added Dumuzi. "Hopefully, when we defeat the last of the traitors, he will awaken from his Fimbulwinter sleep."

"Forgive my rudeness," said Galk, raising his eyebrow, "but exactly what do you intend to do once Miria has… helped you defeat all your remaining enemies? In all practicality…"

"I will convince my father to make peace with the humans. Nothing less."

"I don't wish to be rude, but… I do find that hard to believe. It is… awfully convenient for you, you do realize that."

"Perfectly understandable. I have always found my own father a difficult one to deal with. But then, why do you not come with me and see for yourself?" Dumuzi gestured with an open hand. "I have nothing to hide, noble human."

Miria awaited Galk's reply expectantly. Galk closed his eyes and shook his head, rubbing the ridge of his nose with his gauntlet. "Now I _really_ don't know why I left Rabona to take part in this."

Dumuzi's voice was supremely reassuring. "I will take you to my home, and together, we will usher in a new era between human and Dragon. This is my promise. I swear upon the Ancestors."

Galk resisted the urge to look at Cid for advice. When his friends had allied with Awakened Beings and Dragons, launching an all-out assault on the Capital of the Descendants suddenly didn't seem so far fetched. He sighed. "I guess you know best, Miria. But if I ever see Father Vincent again, I'm going to give him a piece of my mind for doing this to me."

"Thank you for placing your trust in me again, Galk," she said apologetically, smiling. "I owe you many more than one."

Dumuzi raised his arm, holding one sword into the air.

To his right, Miria did the same and met his scimitar. The two blades glimmered together in the emerging moonlight.

To her left, Galk slowly drew his longsword and crossed it with the Crescent Hound and the Claymore.

The leader of the Ghosts.

The Crown Prince of the Dragon Nations.

The new Grand General of the human Army.

"This world shall know a new era of harmony, beginning with the three of us!" cried Dumuzi.

Clare and Raphaela remained silent, whilst the Knights, seeing their commander comply with Miria and Dumuzi, raised a warcry, lances pounding on the ground of the ruined city.

Riful placed her hands on her hips crossly as she glared at the trio. "Have they forgotten me already? I'm the one who came up with this stupid alliance."

"I'm sure they'll thank you later for giving them so many lovely ideas, dear," consoled Dauf, placing a gentle hand on her black shoulder.


	11. Chapter 11: Assault on Mt Sumeru

**Chapter 11: Assault on Mt. Sumeru**

By horse, they galloped for several days on end. They moved trough the West, past the ruins of the Western Gate and along the venerable pathway that no human had ever trod. It had been a bygone era since the first human armies ever set foot into the ancient realm that belonged to the Descendants. Ever since the Tribes united and poured their collective strength into the Old War, the humans had remained on the disadvantage, holding the line at the Western Fort. Today, the scales had shifted, although in a way no one could have expected. Now, the glimmering Ziggurat was already visible in the distance to the naked eye. The thousand Knights no longer galloped; they rode slowly, their horses at a trot, patiently awaiting the orders of the four leaders that walked in front of them. They were in turn flanked by the purple titan Dauf and the two Ghosts Clare and Raphaela.

Supported by the hopes of a nation, they marched for Mt. Sumeru.

The land of the Dragons did not resemble the human world. It was almost surreal, with a pale sun that shone weakly upon the grassy plains that stretched out as far as the eye could see. At least, during this time of year; according to Dumuzi, it snowed often, and the entire land would be covered in white flakes of ice. But for now, there was nothing to the expanse except grass, dust, and a long river that stretched out for miles. But as if in mockery of this barely fertile realm, the mountain of Sumeru and the Tribe cities that lay around it loomed hundreds of thousands of feet high, a sky-piercing titan that seemed indomitable, impenetrable… divine.

In her Awakened form, Riful pointed ahead. "I see it already. That glimmering spire that shines like a beacon: it must be the Capital you are referring to, is it not?"

"Indeed," said Dumuzi. "We are almost there." He turned to look at Miria. "Forgive me, tigress," he murmured. "All this sweat and blood has been because of me and my former compatriot. Is there – "

"Uphold your end of the bargain, and there shall be no grudges borne," she replied quietly. Dumuzi stopped, slightly taken aback.

"She's like this," said Galk, his warhorse leisurely following his guidance. "It means she trusts you and she'd be brokenhearted if you turned on her."

"No one asked you," came Miria's impassive voice.

Dumuzi gave a small smile. "Let me promise you, this alliance is but prelude to the age of charity that I envision for this entire world."

"What of the many cities that lie at the base of the mountain?" muttered Raphaela. "To punch through so many areas would be most difficult, considering the population of these cites as well as the soldiers who surely guard them."

"And we do not know who amongst the Dragons are traitors against your Family, Crown Prince," said Galk. "How are we to – "

"My God," gasped one of the Knights behind him, unable to restrain himself. "Are we in Heaven?" The warriors around him also sighed in awe, as if they had come home at last. Annoyed, Galk turned to see the reason for being interrupted. And then, he understood why.

Their destination was still kilometres away, but it was now truly visible, through all the mist and fog. And by the Ancestors, it was a staggering sight.

Although they already had neared the first perimeter of the Dragon cities, which were arranged in a circular pattern that surrounded the mountain, the Ziggurat itself seemed to grow larger by the second. It was clear that their destination far outsized the collective cities that lay at the foot of the mountain. Forty-thousand feet high and fifty-thousand feet wide, the Royal Palace stood firmly upon a peak that stretched up to the sky, at least four-hundred thousand feet upwards. Built in receding tiers upon a square platform, the facings of the structure were glazed in different colors: ruby, sapphire, emerald, and gold, representing the four elements of ancient Dragon religion. The number of tiers amounted to exactly seven, and the summit no doubt held the Royal Throneroom. Made from bricks of marble, stone, lapis lazuli and other powerful minerals that might have come from Sumeru itself, the Ziggurat was a decadent masterpiece, an aesthetic orgy, a religious contradiction made in homage to the Ancestors. Glimmering sensuously, it exerted a primeval resplendence, an ancient sophistication that was at the same time wildly animalistic but psychically multifaceted.

_Just like you_, Miria thought, looking at Dumuzi.

"We are here," breathed Clare, her body physically staggering at the magnitude of the Palace above the mountain. She looked at the humans, who simply stared, transfixed at the monument, unable to tear their eyes away from the temple-like aura of the living building.

"The gleaming pyramid-tower on the peak… that must be the Palace above Sumeru…"

"Yes," said Dumuzi reverently. "That is the Ziggurat, built upon the sacred mountain peak on which the beloved Ancestors once walked the earth. Welcome to my home."

Raphaela also stared in awe, and Dauf whistled. "We should make a new cave in that mountain," he quipped. "It sure beats ours at home."

"… too big," pouted Riful, her face jealous.

"I… I don't believe it," whispered one of the Knights. "I've never seen such a magnificent structure…"

"Even the cities; they look like they actually lead up to the winding path around the mountain…"

Galk held up a hand, silencing the stunned voices of his troops. But even he could not resist the hypnotic, almost sacred atmosphere of the Capital. "I never thought I'd look upon the land of humanity's ancient foe in my lifetime," he murmured, as he stroked his horse's mane. "It… exceeds even the wildest fantasy I could have entertained."

Cid was less eloquent. "Holy shit."

Despite the awe of having witnessed the dwelling of the Royal Family, there was only so much time to admire the sheer magnificence of the Descendants' homeland. "Our objective is the upper-most tower," said Miria quietly, "And I assume your enemies are within the chambers up in the Palace."

"You are correct. We must ascend up the peak, and enter the Ziggurat. The Throneroom is where my father slumbers. We must reach that chamber before Pazuzu's viziers," said Dumuzi. "Access to the Palace's uppermost chambers are provided by a spiral ramp from the base to the summit. It is the same for the mountain itself – the Palace is a Dragon-constructed reflection of Sumeru. Brave humans, if you can manage to avoid the guards and charge directly up the mountain, you should have no problem other than the long time it will take to arrive at the top. I will personally fly straight up and avoid my people. I do not wish to fight a needless battle. Miria – I need you, and I can take two more with me."

"Clare, Raphaela," said Miria. "Do you mind?"

They quietly complied, allowing Dumuzi to enfold them and the former Number Six in his thick, black arms. "I will meet with you all at the top," said Dumuzi to Riful and Galk. "Be wary. My people do not understand what we have done. They will attack you on sight. For now at least, please, harm them only if absolutely necessary. If possible, ignore them and charge up the mountain."

"Then I'll advance up the spiral pathway until I reach the uppermost gates," said Galk. "Knights! Ready your horses!"

"I shall come with you, human," said Riful sweetly. "You may have strong Knights, but there's a reason why your girlfriends needed us too."

"We won't eat your guts – not yet," snapped Dauf, as the human soldiers faltered at her words.

Cid's eyes narrowed. He drew his rapier. "Come on," he snapped. "We don't have time for this. Let's rush the pyramid!" He spurred his horse on, and it sped into a gallop. "Let's get this over and done with and go home!" he cried.

His words galvanized the hesitant Knights. The thousand-strong military spurred their horses and followed Cid, their battlecry no longer a meek squeal but a mighty holler. They aimed their lances and trampled over the ancient path to the cities. The towers of the surrounding cities glimmered as if in response, and lurching forms were already raising their heads. At least twenty feet tall, they resembled giant simian apes, and their armour bespoke their intentions: they were the sentries of the Dragon cities as well as the guardians of the outer perimeter of Mt. Sumeru.

"Well, we'll just have to break that perimeter, won't we?" growled Galk. The human Army roared louder, thundering through the plains, charging towards the base of the mountain. "Penetrate past those reptilian scumbags, and take the bottom!" he bellowed, drawing his longsword. "Do not let them scatter us! Offensive formation!"

"Dauf," said Riful tersely. We'll deal with the Descendants. Carve out a path for the humans."

"Yes, dear," complied Dauf. They followed the Knights, surging directly towards the charging Dragons.

As Galk's company rumbled towards the cities, Dumuzi spread his wings. "I never thought I would attack my own home," he murmured. "But in the name of eradicating the plague within my Tribes, and in the name of restoring peace, I will gladly attack my own Palace."

And with the three women in his arms, he soared upwards, towards the chambers of the Royal Family.

Towards destiny…

*

_I have never believed in the monarchy._

_For decades I have strived to show the Imperial Court the foolishness of their ways. How their old, outdated practices will lead to the triumph of the humans and our destruction._

_Dumuzi once understood me. He once believed in me. But his father… that bastard of an Emperor. So typical, that he would cling to the old ways. There is no end to this chaos that engulfs the land. No end… unless a new form of government is established._

_One in which Emperors are no longer needed._

_One in which a monarchy is irrelevant.  
A new system; a systemless system. One that truly brings forth the glory of the Dragon Tribes. A system of true equality in which violence is justified to assure its birth…_

_But they will not listen. Then I have no choice. I will bring about a burning flame to consume the old world… and its relics… like you, Dumuzi. Like you, Your Imperial Highness. I will kill the two of you, rest assured._

_Do I wish to lose to those cowards? To those old fossils in the Throneroom?_

_Time to win for once, fool. Time to take revenge._

_It's time, Pazuzu. Time to…_

Wake up_!_

_My eye shoots open. My chest heaves, my cracked ribs twisting in pain. I gasp for air, reaching up to my mouth. It's smashed to a pulp. But of course. I was knocked senseless. By one of those Imperial pawns. Everything comes flooding back so quickly, it almost overwhelms me._

_But no matter. I killed Dumuzi's beloved sister. And now it's his turn._

_I'm alive. As long as I'm alive, the revolution will not die._

_I smirk, cracking the sore bones in my bleeding neck._

_What am I waiting for?_

_I have a coup d'état to carry out. _

*

The cities of the Dragons were massive, dwarfing the Army that charged them – but that was not Galk's concern. The twenty-foot tall, insectoid sentries at the base of the mountain were far more worrying. They lunged at the human force, their monstrous pincers raised. "Halt!" they clicked. "In the name of the Emperor!"

"Tch! They're massive," growled Galk. "At this rate, even our lances couldn't hurt them." He shook his head. "I'll show you humanity has more than just sharp metal at its disposal. Guardians, release!" he cried, as ten hard lances from behind buried themselves in the sentries' faces. "Forward!" roared the Grand General, as the Knights in front sped into a full assault, aiming directly for the mountain path.

His troops thundered past several Dragon reinforcements, who struggled to hold back the combined onslaught of Riful and Dauf. Riful's ribbons cut a guard's halberd into smooth chunks, and Dauf's fist was more than happy to kiss the open face of another Tribe member. "Hurry!" snapped Riful, as more Dragons emerged from the walled Tribe towns. "You've got a long way to go."

The base of the mountain was a home for small Dragon hatchlings, about the size of a large carriage. The chirping infants looked curiously at the Knights as they galloped past and onto the winding hillside that hugged the colossal mountain. It was a massive stone passageway; easily accomodating a hundred soldiers to charge in a line. The thousand that Galk had brought would find no problem escaping from the first line of Dragon defence. Cid led the furious charge up the serpentine pathway, ignoring the hatchlings who squawked happily at them. The Knights encouraged their steeds to gallop at their fastest, up and around the sacred mountain. Heavy metal thunder trammelled the hard ground as a full regiment of Dragons began to make their way towards Riful and Dauf, who had been surrounded by the guards below. "Charge! Don't stop for anything!" cried Galk.

Riful calmly sliced off a Dragon's hand as she turned to Dauf. "Looks like we've given the humans the head-start they needed. We should make our way up now, too."

Dauf punched back a sentry, hurling him into a throng of his comrades. "Okay!"

And with that, Riful's mass of raven ribbons whisked her and Dauf up the mountain, past the first hurdle of the wide passage. "You might want to keep at that pace," she called out to Galk, pointing down at the amassing Dragon soldiers who, as she spoke, were already preparing to rush the mountain passage. She suddenly looked up, her eyes widening. "Aw, no way."

Galk's warhorse whinnied in fear as the sky darkened. Above Mt. Sumeru, airborne creatures were circling, their roars dimming even the deafening hooves of the Army warhorses. They had joined in the pursuit. "Shit," gritted Galk. "We've still got such a long way to go. Is this what the former Grand General had to put up with?"

"Eh?" cried Cid, drawing his rapier and spurring his horse ahead.

"Goddamned overwhelming odds," snarled Galk. "I knew attacking the centre of the Dragon Tribes with one thousand men was a crazy idea. But never mind that now. We've got to reach the top. We must make it to the Ziggurat! Trust Miria. Hang in there, men! Show them the marvels humanity is capable of! Forward!"

And with that, the Army pressed on, witnesses to the advent of a new world.


	12. Chapter 12: The Lord of Plague's Revenge

**Chapter 12: The Lord of Plague's Revenge**

As the guardians of Mt. Sumeru evacuated the Palace to defend against the invading humans below, their Crown Prince flew high into the peak of the Ziggurat, clutching three women to him tightly. "We are almost there," he called, through howling wind and unbearably cold air. He flapped his wings harder as his eyes fell upon the exterior of the Chamber of Elders. He braced himself and hurled his body against the Ziggurat crashing through the ancient wall, keeping his body firmly wrapped around the three Ghosts as he landed and rolled along the marble floor. He scrambled up and released them. Miria rose gratefully, and Clare and Raphaela followed.

"There is hardly anyone here," commented the former Number Six, looking around the darkened room.

"The Grand General has succeeded in drawing the eyes of the traitors away from my father. I only pray to the Ancestors that His Eminence can survive the herculean task we've assigned him."

"Survive, he will not. And neither will you," rang out several voices. Emerging from the darkness behind the colossal pillars behind them were four wizened, serpentine creatures, their slender bodies robed in fur and silk. Their cunning, malicious eyes glinted as they eyed Dumuzi. "His Majesty's Fimbulwinter has yet to conclude," declared one of them. "Have you forgotten Royal decorum, Crown Prince?"

"So you are the traitors," said Miria, deducing this rather obvious state of affairs. "I have to thank you. Instead of destroying all the Tribes, all I need to really do is just root out some rats."

"It seems that you have forgotten the oath of loyalty to the Emperor you swore when he instated you as high officials. Now, where are my attendants? What have you done with them?" growled Dumuzi.

"Why, over there, dear Prince," sneered the four betrayers. Dumuzi glanced to his right, and his eyes widened. Bound tightly in metal chains were the four serpentine wetnurses and stewards who had attended to him for over a hundred years. Green eyes uncertain, they shook with fear in the realization that their young master had returned in the middle of a coup.

Undaunted, Dumuzi turned back to the traitors, his red slits glinting. "Your troops have been drawn down the mountain, and you have no one to protect you, viziers," snarled Dumuzi."The humans' courage have spelled the failure of your plan to seize the throne while I fight a needless war."

"A most unfortunate setback," admitted the tallest vizier, ignoring Dumuzi's rebuke. "We did not expect you to return so soon. Especially not while His Highness is still deep in slumber. No one knows when he will awaken. But only we viziers know the affairs of the Royal Family. Without its true leaders – you and your father, that is – usurping Mt. Sumeru becomes but a tricky technicality."

"So it's treason," snarled the Crown Prince, "and an attempt to dethrone the Royal House of Anu. With these charges upon your heads, I hereby declare you guilty. And the punishment – " his red eyes flashed as he drew his scimitars, " – is death."

The viziers lunged. They were small Dragons – only a foot or two taller than Dumuzi. Clare somersaulted behind the first traitor and dodged his wild swing, stabbing deep into his neck. Blood spurted and covered her even as she rolled off his toppled body, calmly avoiding a vengeful but clumsy swipe from his comrade, as he lopped off the head of another traitor. The body crashed to the floor.

The remaining two counterattacked, cowardly concern showing on their faces for the first time. But not only were these viziers softened by life in the decadent Ziggurat, they were hardly fighters to begin with. For warriors like Raphaela, this was almost too easy a job. She dodged the cautious stab of a surviving traitor, and her sword cut into his face, slicing off the top half of his head. His halved mouth dangled stupidly as he died standing. Raphaela advanced as the last vizier backed away. "Where… where is the Enchanter General?" he stuttered. "He should have have joined with us by now…"

Those were his last words as Clare's Claymore emerged from his eye. He slumped and collapsed. Dumuzi hurried over to his retainers, and in several quick, precise strokes, freed them from their bondage. "Young Master," cried one of the female attendants, her robed body shaking. "Those officials seized us and took the seal of military authority. Their leader might already have it."

"Pazuzu?" Dumuzi smiled assuringly. "He has been slain. I have avenged… " his eyes dimmed. "I have avenged my sister's murder."

The servants looked at each other in despair. "The Princess… killed?"

One of them sank to his knees, sobbing. "Inanna? No, impossible. How could she be lost to us?"

"It was my fault," said Dumuzi sadly. "But fear not. I have punished the traitors and Pazuzu, as I said, has been slain. Everyone, these are my noble allies – from a distant land," he continued, gesturing to the three silver-eyed women. "Do not fear them, for they have saved on many an occasion. Now, all we must do is wait for my father to awaken at last – "

"Dumuzi!" cried Miria, holding up her sword in shock. Clare and Raphaela backed away from the holed wall, their eyes wide in astonishment. He whipped around, and he also felt a jolt of disbelief rock his core. Standing at the ledge was a massive, four-winged form. In his hand was a mighty polearm, infested with squirming, keen maggots.

A dog-headed Dragon…

"Well, well. I'm just in time," sneered Pazuzu.

*

Galk ducked as an airborne Dragon swiped at his helmet. The hand swept a Knight off his steed and he fell down the mountain, screaming for several hundred thousand feet before disappearing completely. Cid swore. "I'm not looking down."  
"I believe we have bought enough time," groaned Galk, looking back. They had done reasonably well – of the thousand men who had accompanied them up this near-suicidal charge, eight hundred still remained. Their eyes were fearless as they continued to follow the Grand General. He looked up. The winding path was narrowing as the mountain led to the peak. From here he could see the base of the immense Ziggurat, shining in the cloudy, misty heavens. "We're almost there. Riful and Galk should be slightly ahead of us. If Miria's strategy worked as planned, I only hope she and Dumuzi took care of everything in time, like they said they would."

"And if they got beaten too?"

Galk didn't dare to think of the possibility. "Then our plan will have failed," he said simply.

"Then how the hell will we get home?"

It was a gamble, true. It was a gamble that could very well cost his men their lives and their trust. "We can only hope that order is restored to the Ziggurat by the time we reach it."

Either way, a high price would have to be paid.

_A slice of homebaked Rabona pie would sure taste good right now_.

*

How could this be?

Why did this ghost of inhumanity and evil still stand before them?

"Impossible," snarled Dumuzi, drawing his swords again. He shielded his trembling attendants with his large body, spreading his wings threateningly. "I killed you! We killed you!" He glanced wildly at Miria, and she had the same bewildered look plastered on her usually calm face.

"Obviously you did not," laughed Pazuzu. "I see you've interrupted what should have been my little party. But no matter. The only slip-up here is your presence. Ridding myself of that presence will return everything to schedule."

Howling in rage, Dumuzi hurled himself at his former friend, and Pazuzu returned the hatred, bringing up his halberd. Clare and Raphaela leaped upwards at the canine Dragon, but he brought his hand down and swatted them away. Clare slammed into a pillar, coughing blood. Raphaela slashed desperately at him, but he closed his scarred hand into a fist, and he welted her across the back, sending her face-first into the wall. She felt her nose break and her lips reduced to pulp.

Their strategy had become their weakness. Having halved the alliance's resources, they were easy prey for Pazuzu. Without a unified force to defeat him like at Andromeda, it seemed that there could not have been a worse time for him to return. Miria dodged a powerful swing from the Enchanter General, but as she leaped up to cut across his face, his eye flashed at her New Mirage, and the back of his hand bashed her aside. She was flung past Dumuzi, but one of the attendants dived and caught her. "You are a friend of His Highness?" mumbled the female servant.

"In many ways," said Miria quickly, rubbing her fractured jaw.

The attendant had been alert enough to save Miria from a painful landing, but she could not outpace Pazuzu's halberd. It cleaved into her arm, and she screamed, falling back. His clawed foot found Miria's stomach and she hurtled upwards, crashed into the four-hundred foot-tall ceiling, and fell, crashing painfully on top of the writhing, pain-wracked servant.

Had she broken every bone in her body?

"Miria!" roared Dumuzi. He turned to Pazuzu. "You'll pay for that, you – "

Pazuzu's spearhead plunged through his chest, jolting his entire body. "Look where your compassion gets you, fool." He gasped, vomiting blood as Pazuzu brutally twisted his jagged point before pulling it away. "Your time has passed, boy," snarled the Enchanter General. "Watch the new age unfold as you lie bleeding to death."

Dumuzi roared in frustration, but the wound was too deep. Pazuzu seized his chance and cut deeper into him, the plague-ridden blade rending his innards. Miria turned her sore head just to see him pierce Dumuzi again. "No!" she cried. She struggled up, but her own body was not responding. She could not feel her legs, or her right arm.

The Prince reeled, his head heavy, unable to stand, and collapsed. He involuntarily groaned when Pazuzu stepped on his ruined body, crushing his ribs, caving in his sternum. An agonizing melody of sickening cracks ensued, and Pazuzu sighed in bliss at the sound. "You see?" the demonic canine grinned as he stepped back, Dumuzi's breathing growing fainter, his blood slipping along the stone floor. "You are only a boy, and can never hope to match my power. With compassion comes complacency, and with complacency – comes mistakes!" Ignoring the pleas for mercy from the Palace attendants, Pazuzu brought his weapon up and plunged his spearhead through their master, rupturing his heart, goring him through and eviscerating what little organs that still functioned inside him. "Mistakes that have cost you your final chance to defeat me." He smiled and withdrew his halberd. leaving the Crown Prince haemorrhaging to death.

And just nearby, Miria clutched desperately at the ground, propping up her upper body, only to see her beloved crumple in a haze of gore.

Her eyes widened. "No…"

"No!!"

Pazuzu laughed in glee as the defeated bodies of his enemies lay around him. "The world… it is now to be under me… under my banner. I am Pazuzu. I am the Dragon Nations."

"**Dumuzi," cried Miria. "Dumuzi!"**

Pazuzu loomed over the two, raising his halberd. "Let us finish this."

"Why kill him? He is no threat to you anymore," whimpered the servant who had saved Miria. "Please, do not kill our Prince."

"You really do miss the point. He's been an annoyance to me and therefore deserves to die. Furthermore, given his apparently rather close ties to the human woman, killing him should be very painful for her." He sneered at Miria, and suddenly she felt hatred like she had never felt before. Her hand clenched into a fist, and tears of execration leaked down her face. But she was powerless. She could not move, let alone save Dumuzi.

The Dragon… the man who trusted her so… to have given her his body and his life…

Why had it taken her so long to place her trust in someone, human or Dragon? Why didn't she take refuge within his heart when he was fighting alongside her, when he held her in his arms and made his home within her?

And now, he was going to die. And he would be lost to her forever. His trust, his love.

Pazuzu smiled, raising his halberd. "Goodbye, Crown Prince. I shall be the one to overthrow the old order that has crippled our people for so long."

"A… curse upon you, old friend," spat Dumuzi, blood pouring from his mouth, as the halberd came screaming down.

He closed his red eyes, silently praying that Miria and her friends might escape this ordeal alive.

_But is this the end for me?_

_There was so much I wanted to do… so many promises I wished to fulfil…_

_Inanna… I am coming to see you. Are you lonely? Do not fret… I am coming back to you…_


	13. Chapter 13: Long Live the Emperor!

**Chapter 13: Long Live the Emperor!**

_Mt. Sumeru. Royal Throneroom_

For decades he had slept, regaining his energy, his vitality. Although he never showed it, the stress and guilt of the War against the humans had also depleted his strength, and even a monarch required respite from endless conflict.

By all rights, he was a creature unsurpassed in strength, wisdom, and intelligence. Ancestors of the past possessed and trained themselves in psychic abilities, clairvoyant powers that enabled them to observe their subjects at all times. Anu had obtained this telepathy long before he ascended the throne, and was a most gifted psychic, able to read the thoughts of any sentient being even while dreaming.

And now, the mental continuum of distress within the Ziggurat's Chamber of Elders stirred his body to action.

The hunched, slumbering form of the Emperor, for the first time in fifty years, stirred. It was but a slight twitch, a gentle movement of the clawed finger. His stag-horned, whiskered head swayed to the side, and a passing attendant noticed. The cobra-headed servant's eyes widened, hurrying to the Throne's side. "Your – Your Imperial Highness?" she asked in disbelief.

The Emperor moved again, groaning. "I hear… my son… calling to me…" he rumbled, his body trembling. "There… is a human… a human… woman… beside him…" His eyelids twitched. "It seems… that I have been betrayed by one of my own…"

Although his voice was not inaudible, the attendant could hardly hear his words. All that mattered was that he had been lifted from his torpor. Unable to contain her barely suppressed joy, she almost rudely took his hand in hers. "Your Majesty!" she cried. "You are awake!"

The Emperor's voice grew stronger, as if he had cleared his throat. His eyes slowly opened, and they cleared. "My son… is in danger. Bring… bring me… my sword."

"Of course, your Highness." She scurried away, proclaiming the exuberant news, although the corridors were veritably empty. "Everyone! Come, come attend to His Highness! What are you waiting for! Come and serve him!"

"His Majesty's Fimbulwinter is over! He has returned to us!"

*

Soaked in her own blood, Clare leaned on her sword, gritting her teeth at the wounds inside her black leather. "Is… this… all… I can do?" she murmured, looking with cloudy eyes at the body of Dumuzi, and the looming shadow of Pazuzu. Miria cried powerlessly in rage and fury as Pazuzu stabbed into the Crown Prince again and again. He laughed, drenching himself with Dumuzi's blood, greedily licking the gore off his vermillion-soaked arms.

The wails of the attendants were deafening.

Could no one stop this monster?

But the sudden noise of the chamber doors bursting open silenced those wails. Miria turned in surprise. Pazuzu also looked back, and his voice was impatient. "Who dares interrupt?"

From the darkness, a low, rolling rumble responded. "Pazuzu, you audacious gnat. I heard everything." A giant shadow loomed beyond the door, and it emerged to face the usurper. "Look upon the face of your Judge, for your judgment is nigh," it growled, and as it did, an aura of unspeakable power enveloped the entire chamber, the entire Ziggurat, the entire mountain. It wasn't a mere expansion of inner strength – the aura was so strong that a pure shockwave emanated from its releaser's body, engulfing the chamber in a loud droning that forced even Pazuzu to stagger. This terrifying energy swept into every nook and cranny of the Palace, penetrated every atom within the stone, and saturated the very air with an ineffable dominance that seemed almost… unquestionable.

Incomparable.

Deathly.

"It… cannot be," breathed the Enchanter General, gazing at the dark form that slowly stepped into the light. "No… no…!"

The whiskers of a demon. The horns of a stag. The eyes of an eagle. The head of a serpentine Dragon. And the voice of a god…

"Anu…!!"

Saved from immediate death, Dumuzi could only look at his father in awe. The Emperor was decked in black silken robes, and within his scaled hand was the legendary weapon of the Dragon Nations: the Sword of the Stars. His antlered head moved slowly, deliberately, and his eagle's eyes gleamed. "It seems you were responsible for this chaos in the Palace. And to think I once believed in our unity."

"Your Highness!" cried one of the attendants. "You have awakened!!"

"Please, save the Crown Prince! Your son is in great peril!"

"Hurt not the humans, your Majesty; they came to help the Young Master – "

"Silence!" bellowed Anu, and the hall instantly froze. He raised his head, reptilian nostrils expanding patiently. "I am a telepathic. I know what you all want me to do." He looked towards the ruined wall that Dumuzi had broken through, and to the hateful Enchanted General who stood before him. "So, you brought this traitor here and want me to kill him for you, Dumuzi? Fine! Then I shall do so." He glanced at Miria, their eyes meeting for one moment. During that short touching of souls, she felt a surge of awe. But it subsided ever so slighty as those eagle eyes softened. "I know that my son is in liaison with these humans. This woman cried his name," he declared. "I heard her in my sleep."

"Her?!" shrieked Pazuzu. "She is a nobody!"

"A nobody who brought has apparently captured my son's heart," countered Anu gravely. "She will be punished for her invasion of Mt. Sumeru, along with her allies and my foolish son. But their punishment, unlike yours, warrant neither death nor torture, and will be lenient. For you, however… " Anu glared at Pazuzu, his hand clenching around his hilt. "I also know that you killed my daughter. For that, I shall avenge her myself. I hereby strip you of your rank as Enchanter General. You are now marked for execution, and I shall be the one to personally grant you that honour."

"Father…" Dumuzi moaned. "Please… show clemency to the humans… I have not deceived them, now have I deceived you…"

"I trust you, Dumuzi," growled Anu. "I will have words with you, and these humans, later."

Clare was speechless even as she lay, helpless. _I never thought I'd see the day I came face to face with the true leader of the Descendants_…

"Your Highness!" cried one of the attendants, his voice growing stronger. Despite himself, the truth was undeniable: he had awakened. "We're saved!" The other servants took up his roar of triumph. Their cries of deliverance shook the Palace. "The Emperor is here! He has returned! Long live His Majesty!!" The attendants thrust their fists in the air again and again, their voices joyful. "Long live His Highness, Emperor of the Dragon Tribes! The Father of the Descendants! The Overlord of the Nations! Long Live His Majesty, Anu!!"

The world's most ancient power had, at long last, answered the call of the new aeon.

*

For centuries, the War between human and Descendant had raged.

Finally, it was all going to be resolved. Here, on the peak of Mt. Sumeru, the Ziggurat Capital of the Dragons. The ancient homeland of the Ancestors.

Anu swung his Sword of the Stars, cleaving into Pazuzu's shoulder. His strength was vast, inexhaustible, dwarfing his son's and easily surpassing the Enchanter General's. Pazuzu brought his halberd up – and it promptly snapped under the Emperor's broadsword blade. In one smooth stroke, Pestilence was no more. "Fall, you reprobate," growled the Emperor. "You shall die for your violation of your sacred office. You shall pay for your temerity against the Royal Family." As he said this, Pazuzu attempted a wild lunge, his claws bared. Anu counterattacked, his claws glimmering in the Palace wall reflections. The Sword of the Stars carved into Pazuzu's waist, meeting slight resistance at the bone, before pressing on and slicing the Enchanter General's upper body away. Severed from his legs, Pazuzu fell to the ground, screaming. Anu flicked the gore off his blade, his fierce eyes burning. "I shall expel you and your traitors from the Tribes. Not that you have anyone to follow you anymore," he added, turning to look at the corpses of the viziers.

Pazuzu struggled back up, bleeding profusely from his waist. He glanced up, unable to fight any longer. But he was undaunted. "The age of monarchy is past," he spat. "Your old ways… your children's old ways… they must be purged. Purged in fire. A new world must come, ruled by representatives, not kings. By the common masses, freed from the bondage of authority."

"Anarchy?" snorted Anu. "Fitting, for a mind like yours." His sword sliced off Pazuzu's arms, and they fell onto the bloodstained floor. "Every knee must bend. That is the law of the world. If not to me, to someone else. If not to the monarchy, to the oligarchy. If not to an idol, to an ideal. There is no creature that does not follow a guiding Law. Your proposal is but a pathetic attempt to excuse our legitimacy."

"In a manner," hissed the Enchanter General. He couldn't even stand up; his lower half had been flung to the other side of the giant chamber. He lay on his back, limbless, gloating up at his former master. "So you admit that the old must give way to the new? Then… victory really is mine. I have been right all along. You know that only a new generation can herald peace for our weary Tribes. You have awakened, only to understand that it's _you_ who should sleep."

"Of course. Your mistake is that you believe I would sit idly by while my rule passes, until our Family is overthrown by a new caste of warriors capable of turning the wheel of ages. Yet I've constantly groomed my son to the best of my ability, preparing for the day he would ascend my throne. Yes – only the new generation can create a new world. My time is past, I am well aware of that. All things must come to an end…"

"But even if I agree with you, you reprobate…" He raised his weapon, orange eyes burning in a deeply anguished rage.

"_For what senseless reason did you have to kill my daughter_!?"

The Sword of the Stars swooped down and neatly sliced off Pazuzu's head. The smirking dog-faced countenance rolled arrogantly along the cold floor, and the body of the demon twitched one last time, before stilling.

The former Enchanter General was dead. The slayer of thousands had paid for his sins to the Emperor with his own life. Nevertheless, it felt empty. This failed revolutionary was once a comrade, a friend of the Crown Prince. His cause was not that of mere vengeance, although he had remained a vengeful murderer till the end. He was a casualty of the War as much as anyone else.

Taking a deep breath, Anu dropped his sword, letting it clang to the ground, his clawed hands flexing. He raised them, his eagle eyes savagely triumphant. "Behold, Pazuzu. I shall guide the world, to where it must go."

Silence rang through the hall, as the Ziggurat itself seemed to breathe a sigh of relief at Pazuzu's demise.

"There is still one thing left undone," added Anu, glancing at Miria, who had crawled to Dumuzi and was cradling his horned head in her arms. "Despite his traitorous deeds, with his last, futile struggle, Pazuzu has indeed reminded all in the Court, including myself, of the new era's neccessity. That new epoch is now. Pazuzu, although entirely misguided in his idea of what exactly that age would be like, sensed it coming. And I agree. The time has come. With each season, my slumber grows longer, more torporous. I am growing far too old. I believe the shamans will agree with me when I declare that the time has come for me to step down."

The attendants gasped in collective astonishment. "Your Highness – "

"You can't step down – "

"The War – "

"The Prince is near death – "

"I am aware of that," he snapped, silencing their protests. He gazed at the fallen Dumuzi, his eyes emotionless. "Take my son to the healers," he commanded. The attendants quickly hurried to the Crown Prince and apologetically lifted him away from Miria. They took up his motionless body and strode out of the Chamber of Elders.

"Now. What of you?" Anu gazed down at the three, his orange eyes boring into theirs. You who awakened me with this… racket?" he looked at Miria, whose cheeks were still wet with tears. "I was not aware that there were human partisans fighting for the cause of the Dragons. I believed we were irrevocably at war."

"No. It is we who desire peace. We… were assured of it if we allied with Dumuzi," she muttered wildly. "He said… he would convince you to enter into dialogue with the humans; for much of what your armies have done was at the command of the traitor Pazuzu."

"I see. So Dumuzi was always aware of this traitor's sins. While I slept…" Anu suddenly broke into a generous smile. "Impressive. You have done something that would never have been possible during the Old War. I admit, it is inspiring and humbling to bear witness to such courage and honour that have commonly been thought impossible for humans. But having been enlightened about these brave deeds of you and my son, I believe that I must also be as courageous." He raised a hand. "Summon my courtiers. We shall offer a fixed date for negotiatians between the human and Dragon nations."

"I have a suggestion… Your Majesty," spoke Miria quietly.

He paused, surprised that she interrupted him. "Let me hear it."

Encouraged, she pressed on. "A fixed date… will not be necessary. The Grand General of the human Army allied with Dumuzi at my encouragement. Even now he should have made his way up Mt. Sumeru. Unfortunately, your men have given chase to him and his allies due to a strategy we adopted in order to slip past the guardians of the mountain. It would be a wise choice to call off the attack initiated by the traitor Pazuzu…"

"I see." Anu did not look the least bit embarrassed. "I should meet this Grand General personally," he said, stroking his whiskers. "And for that, he must be alive for me to hear him talk. Your prudence is commendable. I shall issue a retreat call."

"Now. You must be tired," he said, smoothing down his black robes. "I noticed you are suffering from broken bones in your frail bodies. I will send you to the shamans for recuperation. Bathe and dress; there are treaties to be signed."

As he glided out of the bloody chamber that was littered with the corpses of traitors, Miria suddenly felt herself slightly alleviated of the despair that had previously crushed her.

*

_Two days later. The official signing of the concordat of peace between Emperor Anu and Grand General Galk_

Today, the atmosphere was slightly muted.

The Tribes were well aware that Inanna, the beloved Princess, had been killed in battle. She had been a beacon of compassion in the same way Dumuzi had been a beacon of hope. In the Emperor's temporary absence, she and Dumuzi had stepped in, ruling over the Nations in a way that even Anu would be proud of.

And what of the Crown Prince? The wardens of the Palace were diligently watching over his broken body. The people of the Nations waited with bated breath on his condition.

Had Anu's heir died before he could assume the Crown so many of his people believed he deserved?

Or had he survived Pazuzu's ferocious last stand? Galk hoped all his pessimism would be proved wrong.

An hour earlier, he had personally conversed with Anu. He had the uncomfortable intuition that the Emperor was testing him; evaluating his potential as an ally and equal. But it seemed that Anu was satisfied, having applauded the genius of the alliance's strategy of attacking Mt. Sumeru as one that surpassed that of the 'old commanders.'

_"To divide the force into a pincer attack against the traitor," he had said, "and destroy the weaker commanders up in the Palace whilst the larger force engages the defenders that are unaware of the true battle above. A most estimable strategy, and one that was to be perfect, had that traitor stayed dead. Nevertheless, despite my son's defeat at his hands, you all stand before me, yes? Life is the true victory." _

Either way, for now, he was safe, safe in the comfort of the Royal infirmary. It was a time for memorial, and celebration. The heroes of the final stages of the war stood at ease within the Throneroom: Riful, Dauf, Miria, Raphaela, Clare, Cid, and Galk talked at ease amongst themselves, awaiting the Emperor's final blessing. He had ascended his golden throne, observing Galk, Riful and Miria. Although he looked hesitant, almost shy, he still raised a scaled fist. "Everybody, our two nations have long been submerged in the atrocities of chaos, but the Crown Prince and his allies have freed us, here, on the peak of Mt. Sumeru! Victory is ours!"

The Dragons around them cheered, and the human Knights who accompanied Galk also shouted their support, although Galk's demeanour matched the Emperor's. He did not wish to berate the soldiers for cheering something they barely understood – they were simple fighters, and as long as they lived to fight another day under their commander, it was often enough. His men had pulled through – of the thousand members who ascended the mountain, a further fifty-two had died before the Emperor's orders for a ceasefire were heeded. The total head count of survivors was seven hundred and sixty one. Although Riful and Dauf had eliminated the reinforcements sent by Pazuzu, they had been on the verge of being killed themselves before Anu had issued the suspension of hostilities.

But even so, who knew it could have come to this? Dumuzi's dream, a reality. Miria's long journey to peace, at an end.

"Celebrate, guests from a distant land," called the Emperor, interrupting Galk's reminiscence. "From hereon, you are not vassals, but equals. Not weaklings, but warriors. Not enemies, but friends. This day marks the new age that my son so desired, and since he wishes for it so dearly, I shall grant it to him. As the heir apparent, he shall have a greater hand in the guidance of this land than I. He shall taste the love our people nurture for him. He shall be a great King."

*

_Banquet Hall_

The celebration of the new entente lasted for several hours and late into the night, with the Emperor observing the festivities.

The banquet prepared by the attendants lay largely forgotten – it was, after all, Dragon fare – masses of unrecognizable, cooked flesh that did not resemble anything like cow or chicken. But the hosts did not seem to concerned, content to bask in the majestic presence of the Tribes' leader and participate in the socializing that was, in many ways, a mockery of the relations between human and Dragon during the Old War. The mammalians were small, whilst the Dragons were at least fourteen feet tall, looking down benevolently at their guests as they strove to learn the strange culture that they had remained ignorant of for so many centuries.

In her child form, Riful sat on Dauf's lap, relaxedly observing the unarmoured Knights freely intermingling with the Dragon attendants. "Amazing how they can even stand being in the same room with beings like us," she commented, smirking at the oblivious happiness with which the humans conducted themselves.

"War makes idiots forget who's their real enemy," sneered Dauf.

"That was unusually intelligent of you, Dauf," observed Riful. "Have you also learnt something after all this?"

But he was right. Truly, it was in peacetime which made humans forget just how fragile they were in a world of Awakened Beings and Dragons.

The Emperor was watching Miria inquisitively, his eagle eyes wide. Miria looked extremely uncomfortable. It was the first time Anu had expressed such curiosity – in decades. Cid was smirking, and Clare and Raphaela remained impassive, although Clare felt within her a stirring for the home she had left behind in Rabona.

"Dumuzi is eager to see you," said Anu suddenly, to Miria.

Cid grinned at her blush. "I'm sorry," she muttered, not meeting the monarch's gaze. "It is largely my fault that he has been so gravely injured."

Anu raised his hand. "Do not apologize, human woman. It is his duty and his honour to have fought like he did. It is the role of a Dragon Prince to sacrifice himself for the people, for the Tribes of the Descendants."

Cid snorted. "Careful he doesn't squash you, girl," he said, looking up at the huge sovereign.

Anu blinked, his stag-horns gleaming in the light. His snout neared Miria, and she could see the moist, scaled nostrils expanding. "You love my son, do you not?"

He did not expect an answer. Miria's cheeks flushed again. "Why not stay, and be his Empress? When I step down, I will possess no more earthly authority. And as our peace treaty has been instated, it is up to you if you wish to rule Mt. Sumeru alongside my son, the future sovereign of the Tribes."

Miria's cheeks flushed further. She had never felt so... interrogated. Her usual calm voice, upon hearing of Dumuzi's desire to see her again, became a slight stutter. "I… I wish to return home first. There are some people who I wish to see first. I'm sorry, but I do not wish to… marry and become Empress… if that's what you mean," she said awkwardly. "It doesn't feel… right. But, yes… I would very much like to see Dumuzi again."

"You have courage, to refuse me," declared Anu. He smiled. "You are more than worthy to be my daughter-in-law. Won't you consider?"

"No," said Miria again. "I'm sorry, Your Highness. But the royal life is not the life I want."

"Will you not at least come back to Dumuzi?"

"That… I'm very happy to do."

Anu looked pleased.

Cid smirked. "Life is good, isn't it?"

"Life is for the living," shrugged Miria.

The Eastern Gate Marshal left his blushing compatriot to discuss with the Emperor a date for a reunion with the Crown Prince. He approached Galk. "Our work is done here," he said, smiling. "What do you say we go home?"

"The old sailor should be at the edge of the Isles, where we first arrived," said Galk. "I wish to return home too. It's time to celebrate. There's nothing left for us to do here now."

"Will we go home with you?" asked Clare.

"I wish to know how Miria and Riful will solve their issues along with the Emperor. Only when everything has been settled, will I leave. But yes, I do hope we can leave together."

"Don't keep the old sailor waiting, Clare," laughed Cid. "You might have heaps of events here on Mt. Sumeru, but the real fun starts when we go back to Rabona. Back where… back where it all started, really," he laughed. "Wasn't that where… those two met?"

_Had so much happened since then_…?

"Father Vincent is waiting for you with open arms, Clare," said Galk, smiling. "And not just you. When Galatea returned home, he sent a messenger to me. He hasn't been out of the loop. For her heroism and the final end of the hostilities between human and Dragon, he raised her to the office of Holy Mother."

Clare blinked in surprise. "What does that have to do with me?"

"Vincent is a good man. He has spent many months dispelling the malevolent rumours associated with you 'silver-eyed witches'. We know better than the commoners, so we have tried to… rectify the misunderstandings that we humans are guilty of. Hopefully, the fears of the townspeople have been quelled, and you will not be shunned when you return to Rabona. After all, it is not you who are the enemy. We understood that long ago. And Vincent understands better than anyone else that sometimes it is humans who are the true monsters."

Cid stretched lazily. "Don't be so morbid. So, what's the old sailor's excuse for hurrying us back?"

"He told me he acquired a new ship. He's very proud of it. He wants to take us back on it."

"Oh?"

Galk's eyes twinkled. "He told me he named it, _Peace_."


	14. Epilogue: Is this Goodbye?

**Epilogue: Is This Goodbye?: Reflections and Returns**

_Mt. Sumeru_

Bound in bandages and barely able to walk, Dumuzi stood atop the highest balcony of the towers on the Ziggurat, observing the festivities below at the base of the mountain. The citizens of the Tribes had gathered in his honour, and a full procession and sacred dance was being held to commemorate the long-awaited age of peace. The melody of tambourines, trumpets and flutes were whisked up Mt. Sumeru by the cool wind, and the jubilant singing was easily audible.

Now, all that remained was to gently guide this land into its glorious future, with Miria by his side.

Formal diplomatic relations with the Isles of Man had been established. Such a thing was an impossibility in past generations, when the War between humans and Dragons had reached the peak of its fury. But with the new ways of new generations came an overturning of the old order – the violence, the bloodshed, the despair. It felt awkward indeed, not planning for war every waking moment, but it was an awkward serenity that he felt within his bosom, and he would much rather feel awkwardly peaceful than exultantly murderous.

He did not turn as Anu made his way outside the Throneroom, to join his son on the balcony. "You have explained to your courtiers?"

"Yes," said Anu. "A year from now, you shall be Emperor, and I will pass into the ranks of the Ancestors."

"They will look upon you as a god," said Dumuzi, looking down sombrely at the dancing Dragons, "just as they look to all the past Ancestors as protective spirits."

"Yes. But the true administration of the land begins with you, my son. The people may look to me as a god, but they will look to you as their saviour. And that role is far more important. But I believe that the new world needs a leader like you. My time has passed, and I am happy for that." He snorted. "I suppose any longer, and I would have become a fossil."

His son did not laugh.

"Miria has gone home," declared Anu. "But she will come to see you again. I do hope you will write to her."

"That is welcome news," smiled the heir. "Truth be told, I can barely wait to see her again, and it has only been several weeks. Yet I sincerely believe that the closer she and I grow, the closer our two nations will become, too. For it is her courage and her trust that gave life to this ambition of mine, to unite the land through an alliance rather than conquest. I owe it all to her, and her noble friends."

There was little else to say.

Anu leaned on the stone balcony, breathing in the cold mist. His black robes fluttered in the air. "I… did not know Inanna had joined you in battle. Why did you not stop her?"

Dumuzi did not answer.

"But… it is foolish of me to accuse you, when it is I who was wrong," admitted the Emperor, his voice filled with a hint of grief for the first time. His eagle eyes remained dry – of course, Dumuzi had never seen him shed a tear, not even when Mother passed on – but for Inanna to have been lost like this… "I neglected her, to both our detriment," he admitted. "I was not there when she died; I was not even there when she lived. She was stolen from me, and I shoved her into that traitor's arms. I let the world steal her from me…"

"Inanna fell in battle for me," replied Dumuzi. "And I have no doubt she died with you on her lips too. I do not believe she would wish us to dwell on her sacrifice, although I still continue to disappoint her, every day I rise."

A silence settled on the balcony even as the merriment of the festivals could be faintly heard.

"Son," mumbled Anu suddenly. "Do you remember those bone-kites Inanna always wanted me to fly with her…?"

Dumuzi smiled sadly. "Yes, Father. Even though she made almost a dozen kites, hoping you would join her, you never found the time to."

"Where has she kept them? I wish to fly them on the fields beyond the Palace, if possible. I must confess my sin of neglect to her spirit. I wish to… have some time alone to myself with those kites."

Dumuzi smiled tenderly at him, for the first time in many decades. "I will go to Inanna's chambers and fetch them for you."

Anu bowed his head. Suddenly, he didn't look like the majestic Emperor of the Dragon Nations, nor a fearsome, godlike monarch destined to pass into the fame of Ancestral glory.

He simply looked like an old, lonely father who had lost his daughter.

"Thank you, dear son," he said gratefully.

*

Three weeks of sailing the treacherous seas, and they had come home. Home to the Continent.

Before they headed towards Rabona, Riful and Dauf bade their Claymore compatriots a noticably sarcastic farewell, which was reciprocated all too willingly by Miria. "So, our alliance ends here," she had confirmed, looking emotionlessly at Riful. "We won't hunt you, but if we see you again, we won't be showing mercy, either."

The Abyssal One shrugged. "I suppose there's really no point in getting you to Awaken anymore, either. There's nothing left to fight; nothing left to conquer. But I might just try. If I get bored of hiding in my little cave."

"You're despicable," said Raphaela.

"Do you really hate us so?" frowned Riful, throwing up her arms. "Ungrateful brats," she said, in a rare flare of bitterness. "In case you and your precious commander forget, I was the one who came up with the alliance – and was refused by you several times, before your own mistakes pushed you into my arms. So I keep my word, I stick by my pact. And this is how you thank me? You and Number Forty-Seven will never learn, just like the last time I helped her out." She took Dauf's hand and turned away. "Have it your way. But if you ever decide to attain your true potential one day, don't hold back. Until you see things my way again, it's war."

"Riful," called Miria.

"What?" pouted the other.

Miria paused, keeping her face expressionless. She let a moment of silence pass between them, before she quietly spoke.

"Thank you."

Riful stared at her, surprise on her face. But she quickly recovered, and waved one last time. "Cheers, sister," she laughed, as Dauf made a rude gesture at them with his hand, before departing.

Doubtless, they would eventually venture out of their domain to feed on human, but only then would conflict erupt. Human beings would not die because of some brutal, cruel Organization. Battle would not rage because a former warrior rose amongst her comrades against the tyranny of their masters. Lives would not be lost because the Dragon Nations invaded the Isles. No. That belonged to the old world.

It seemed that lasting peace was, for now, not too much to ask for.

*

Rabona. Where it all began

It was like a dream. They had now passed through the city gates, their legs sore from walking for several days on end. Having laid all the hauntings of the past to rest, Rabona looked like an oasis of solicitude, a temple that offered sanctuary for travellers who had almost lost their way.

They were back.

They were all exhausted, and it was somewhat of a relief that life went on as usual in the holy city. Unlike Mt. Sumeru, there were no crowds, no dancers, no blaring trumpets or choirs. Just the sound of mules and the marketplace, the laughing of small children, and the ringing of the city bells. The denizens of the streets paid little attention to them apart from a friendly nod, or perhaps a shy glance. It was like returning to a warm hearth, where nothing mattered save the hot roast by the fireplace and the gentle, coy touch of a lovely maiden.

"Home sweet home," cried Cid, stretching out his arms. "D'you smell the freshly baked bread we always used to stop for while on patrol, Galk? I'm in the mood for some of them now."

The Grand General smiled as the civilians parted ways respectfully for him. They shuffled to the side of the streets, recognizing his familiar face, but fondly taking note of his new armour, his new insignia of office. He had almost forgotten that the Isles and Continent were now united, and he was their supreme commander. He gave a brief wave, unable to resist the children who followed the footsteps of his metal boots in friendly curiosity. It was, in a word, wonderful.

Miria stopped walking and stared ahead, sighing quietly.

At long last, they had arrived at their true destination.

A small church, where they once fought an Awakened Being called Agatha.

Where… everything had begun…

Outside the small church, on its humble steps, sat two women, cuddling. One was taller, and blind with scars across her eyes. She was dressed in the robes of a high-ranking nun within the Rabonic Church. The other took a few moments to recognize. She no longer wore black leather, and instead wore a simple floral dress with sandals exposing her arms and feet. Nevertheless, two familiar hairtails draped down the front of her bare shoulders. And despite the bitter scars that still remained on her fair body, she was beautiful, and her expression was radiant as she snuggled in her beloved's arms. The sightless Holy Mother stroked her hair, holding her like she was the most precious thing in the world.

It seemed that they were waiting for someone.

Having travelled across the world, Miria felt her eyes welling with tears.

Clare and Raphaela both remained emotionless, although their faces, for the first time in a long bygone era, were finally at peace. And Galk looked away, his shoulders heaving with emotion. "Oh, goddamit," gritted Cid, unable to control his trembling lip. "Guys!"

It was time to bask in the fruit of the new world Miria had created with her own hands.

The lady with tails looked up, and her eyes shone with an immeasurable joy. She could not speak, but she squeezed her partner's hand excitedly. The other still had her eyes closed, but it was obvious she could sense the three women and two men.

"Hey," called Galatea, her sardonic face beaming. "Cynthia and I been waiting for you. We've got a lot to catch up on. Come in. The tea's getting cold."

***

_My name is Cynthia. I'm just a normal person who lives in a city called Rabona. I can no longer laugh or sing. However, I am happy, because I am in love with a beautiful nun, although our illicit romance must be kept secret from her holy colleagues. She blames herself for my predicament, and it's one of those times when I really wish I still had my voice. I've almost forgotten what it sounds like. I want to tell her she is so silly, such a silly, beautiful, angel, but all I can do is shake my head. But she still kisses me, still clasps me to her, still adores me. _

_I'm a spoilt one._

_I love you, Galatea. That's why I don't want to see you like this, especially after you've fought so hard. I can see it in your white eyes, in the way you walk, in the way you hold me. You're so tired. You're tired of fighting for a new world. You're tired of standing alone against the relentless darkness, against enemies who can never die. _

_But you're not alone, darling. You have never been. _

_The new age Miria promised is here. You heard her. The world is at peace. There is no one who can stop us from being together. There is no one who can threaten our lives. You know this already. But you still blame yourself, because of __because of what I've suffered. Silly darling!__ You are troubled when you sleep, and you can only rest when I lay my hands and lips on you. Please, let the wounds within you lift away, like the white clouds we see in the blue sky today. You've endured so much. But now, we'll always be together, until we die together. Doesn't that make it all worth it?_

_I believe so. _

_Let me bear your burden, if only for a little while. At the very least, if I share your pain… someday, you may finally leave it all behind._

_The new world is here._

_So, for now, my sweet Holiness… rest._

_Rest, and let me take care of you._

**THE END**


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